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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30019320">tag</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rasmirato/pseuds/rasmirato'>rasmirato</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsukishima Kei &amp; Yamaguchi Tadashi Friendship, but they are very very obvious about it, dumb boys in love, flirty texting, technically mutual pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:27:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30019320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rasmirato/pseuds/rasmirato</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to Tsukishima and Yamaguchi's game of relationship chicken.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>143</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. you're it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I live for the concept that Yamaguchi and Tsukishima spend the majority of their high school years not-so-secretly pining after each other but not actually doing anything concrete about it, partially because Tsukishima is just that much of an aloof bastard and Yamaguchi is a is hot flustered mess, but mostly because they are Dumb Boys. </p><p>Well, here we go. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yamaguchi nearly throws his phone. Tsukki, you insufferable shit. But he plays along, the prospect of receiving another picture message driving him. He has the creeping feeling that this is a test, albeit one that he has studied for, because yes, he has spent years studying Tsukishima Kei. The exact right answer is evading him at the moment, but he supposes this isn’t a test where there is one exact right answer.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yamaguchi sits cross-legged on his bed and inventories the events of the past week.</p><p>Tsukishima was ‘it’. It was his turn to initiate in their recent and unprecedented game of send-your-best-friend-suggestive-picture-messages-at-ungodly-hours-of-the-night tag. Yamaguchi is still bewildered he finds himself in this position after years of having it bad for Tsukishima, quietly pining to himself and no one else. Perhaps he started making it obvious as of late and his ever-clever Tsukki felt the need to take matters into his own hands in his signature roundabout mind-fuck way. Maybe it's nothing but a frivolous game to him, which Yamaguchi prays it isn't, but even if it was he'd be a liar if he said he wasn't willing to play along. </p><p>It all started when Yamaguchi absentmindedly threw his jersey into Tsukishima’s volleyball bag after practice one week ago. He must have realized while packing his bag for the next day before bed; all matters of things unspoken suddenly becoming less scary and more attainable under the cover of night.  </p><p>Hence the various photos sent over a series of playful text messages of Tsukishima wearing Yamaguchi’s misplaced jersey, a tad too tight and stretching across his wider chest in a way that made Yamaguchi’s body temperature rise at least three whole degrees. Uncharacteristically bold, he suggested Tsukishima should just take it off since it was <em>oh so uncomfortably small – </em>and he did<em>. </em>Sent photos to prove it and everything.</p><p>Did he really have a choice other than retaliation in the form of stealing Tsukishima’s jersey the following day? Snapping back to reality, Yamaguchi rolls onto his stomach and lets out a muffled scream into his pillow. He seriously considers he may have been a man possessed that night, remembering what he did once he was wearing nothing but said jersey and a pair of boxer briefs. </p><p>It was Tsukishima’s fault- asking if it was too big on him, <em>how big</em>, in fact- that was just asking for something more. He supposes hiking up said jersey and roaming a hand just under the waistband of his briefs to illustrate exactly how much more fabric it covered on his body compared to Tsukishima's, exposing the faintest trace tummy skin in the process, snapping a picture of him on his back, tangled in his sheets like that and sending it wasn’t entirely necessary. It was all very improper of them. They were best friends, after all. </p><p>Although he saved the photos Tsukishima sent, he deleted his own out of sheer mortification upon seeing them in his camera roll in the morning. They seemed to mock him – <em>look what past-midnight Yamaguchi is capable of you stuttering moron.</em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Yamaguchi sits on the bench during a water break at practice, counting. It had been exactly six days since that night, and he is getting impatient. And he is exactly eighty-nine percent certain Tsukishima wasn’t uncomfortable with his risqué display, he egged him on in the moment after all. The next few days at school were remarkably normal, neither party showing signs of breaking first. It made this whole thing all the more exciting.</p><p>He wonders what the hell is taking Tsukishima so long to initiate next, hoping this wasn't a one-time incident, but his train of thought is derailed as he watches Tsukishima rip a piece of athletic tape from the roll with his teeth. Yamaguchi’s jaw flops open, which he reacts to by using his free hand to slam it back up into place, effectively biting his tongue and smashing his feet down on the gym floor in agony. It was quite dramatic. </p><p>“Did you just have a muscle spasm, Tadashi?” Sugawara leans over and croons from beside him on the bench, an all-knowing smile on his smug little face.</p><p>Yamaguchi adores his Senpai, he really does, but Sugawara was simply too observant for his own good at times. Yamaguchi glances between him and Tsukishima from across the gym, eyebrow cocked and sharp gold eyes staring right through him. He’s certain his skin is flushed with embarrassment but he steadies himself with a sharp inhale.</p><p>“J-just a muscle spasm” he shouts with a forced grin, flashing a thumbs up. Sugawara pats him on the shoulder knowingly. He decides to ignore this. </p><p>When he glances back at Tsukishima he’s back to work taping his index finger up, a sly smile playing on his lips. Watching his slender fingers work, pulling, wrapping, and bending with an elegance only Tsukishima could possess, Yamaguchi decides for what is probably the twelfth time already this week, <em>I am fucked.</em></p><p>9:25 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Hey</em></p><p>9:25 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>You weren’t very discreet today, Yamaguchi.</em></p><p>9:26 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Since you seemed intrigued by my taping technique, here you go.<br/></em><em>[1 Picture Message]</em></p><p>Yamaguchi practically flies from his desk chair to his bed, scrambling to grab at his phone, the vibrations of incoming texts muffled by his mattress much earlier than expected. He radiates manic energy as his shaky hands open the attachment.</p><p>Tsukishima is standing in front of his bathroom sink, phone in his right hand pointed at the mirror, covering the bottom half of his face. There’s something very intimate about the fact that Yamaguchi knows exactly where he is, he’s brushed his teeth in front of that sink countless times. He’s in a loose white tee, the hem slightly stretched above his hipbones where he raises his left arm, revealing the tiniest bit of grey boxer waistband. Yamaguchi groans, <em>Tsukki, you are such a fucking tease. </em></p><p>Yamaguchi eye’s finally settle on the best part. Tsukishima’s left hand is raised, wrist turned so the bony back of his hand is facing the mirror. His index finger is wrapped meticulously with that white athletic tape from earlier, as is his ring and pinkie finger, taped together in a splint. He can tell by in the glint of his golden eyes he knows <em>exactly</em> what the fuck he is doing. So, they are getting straight to the point tonight, Yamaguchi decides after taking a minute to slow his heart rate.</p><p>He smashes out “holy fuck”, then deletes it. “Fuck me…”, deleted. “Fuck off!”, delete. He rakes a hand through his hair. <em>No, no profanities just yet. Stay calm. Calm like Tsukki. </em></p><p>9:28 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>Oh… practicing some late-night blocks?</em></p><p>9:29 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Course not. You think I’d invite one of those moronic spikers over at this time of night?</em></p><p>Yamaguchi’s fingers stutter over his keyboard. <em>Oh Jesus. Reel it back in, Yamaguchi! This will not be the only photo I receive tonight, </em>he decides. </p><p>9:31 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>Heh. What other use does taping provide though???</em></p><p>9:31 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Entertaining you, apparently.</em></p><p>9:32 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>You were watching during practice today. </em></p><p>9:33 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>Ya… you have stupidly long fingers tsukki. They’re kinda mesmerizing.. I guess </em></p><p>9:34 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Hm. Could you be more descriptive? Not sure I’m really getting it. </em></p><p>Yamaguchi nearly throws his phone. <em>Tsukki, you insufferable shit.</em> But he plays along, the prospect of receiving another picture message driving him. He has the creeping feeling that this is a test, albeit one that he has studied for, because yes, he has spent years studying Tsukishima Kei. The exact right answer is evading him at the moment, but he supposes this isn’t a test where this is one exact right answer.</p><p>9:34 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>I like the way it looks when you hold things.. looks elegant ..</em></p><p>He waits a whole two minutes in agony.</p><p>9:36 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Like this?<br/></em><em>[1 Picture Message]</em></p><p>Yamaguchi feels like he’s fallen flat onto his back, knocking the wind out of his lungs like he'd done a number of times from Tsukishima's top bunk when they were kids. He’s in disbelief of the photo in front of his face. He realizes it’s not even close to as explicit as the photo he texted last week, but the connotation behind this photo is downright kinky.</p><p>The tape around his fingers is loose, and his ridiculously long fingers are wrapped around his very own throat, knuckles slightly pink, the flesh of his neck pliant against the pads of his fingers. The photo is framed so his bottom lip, wet and pushed slightly open, is at the top of the frame; the focal point being his wiry fingers pressed against the pale skin of his throat, tape loosely slipping down and falling against the sharp curve of his collarbones. Yamaguchi is on autopilot, typing out a response through the brain fog practically coming out of his ears, and immediately hits send. He normally would regret the profanity, but he supposes at this point, expletives can be forgiven.</p><p>9:36 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>Fuck </em></p><p>Tsukishima is a renaissance painting. He belongs in a goddamn museum. So he tells him this.</p><p>9:36 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<em> <br/></em><em>You are a work of art tsukki.</em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Yamaguchi stands in his bathroom, shirt off and staring at his reflection in the mirror, his feet squirming uncomfortably on the terry cloth bath mat on the floor. Warm light pierces the window as the evening sun hangs low in the sky, lighting up his bony frame. He chews his bottom lip as his eyes flit around the reflection of his chest in the mirror. Too many god damn freckles. He looks like a child. He is not desirable. He leans in, musses his hair and tries a different angle. He stares and stares and stares. How the fuck he mustered the courage to pull up Tsukishima’s jersey and put himself on display like that last week was a thing of mystery. Perhaps Tsukishima’s apathy rubbed off his skin and into the fibres of the jersey, dosing Yamaguchi with courage as he wore it.</p><p>Earlier that day during practice there was a mishap. Daichi had stepped out for a minute to deal with whatever third-year volleyball captains with their life together deal with and within approximately 2.3 seconds Kageyama was whipping volleyballs at Hinata at their terminal velocity.</p><p>Tsukishima seemed less tolerant than usual, which Yamaguchi realizes isn’t saying much.</p><p>“Look, Yamaguchi, chimpanzees flinging their dung around.” He says, pointing in their general direction.</p><p>Yamaguchi giggles. He actually finds their antics quite endearing. But not as endearing as Tsukki’s insults. He notices the tension in his tall shoulders that typically indicate he is feeling particularly irritable. When he’s agitated like this his insults improve in both sting and accuracy. Today, he got straight to the point.</p><p>He marches up to Kageyama and calmly stops his arm from whipping another volleyball at his prey.</p><p>“Wouldn’t it be easier to just push him up against the wall and have your way with him like you clearly want to?” Tsukishima deadpans.</p><p>The statement was just loud enough for everyone in a meter radius to hear: Yamaguchi, Nishinoya, and Tanaka, but not Hinata himself, whose animalistic athletic abilities enabled him to clear the length of the gym already. Dumbfounded, the three pairs of eyes latch onto Kageyama and Yamaguchi fears for Tsukki’s life. Had Tsukishima finally taken it too far? Is that even possible on this team of freaks and idiots and animals?</p><p>Tanaka and Nishinoya rush to each other’s side, clinging onto each other for dear life and sniggering their little hearts out.</p><p>“Did he really just bring it there?!”</p><p>“He did! He did!”</p><p>“Oh man, he didn’t have to do him like that…”</p><p>“But he did Noya, <em>he did!</em>”</p><p>They guffaw and blather on and on like the busybodies they are because it truly is incredible what a single, pointed, Tsukishima-generated statement can do. Kageyama still has yet to move. Tsukishima releases the soft grip on his jersey and Kageyama drops the volleyball which bounces exactly three times before rolling to a sad stop. Yamaguchi also realizes he hasn’t completed his breath yet, too scared to move a muscle as it might set off a fight response in Kageyama leading to Tsukishima’s demise. He let out the exhale, unable to hold it in any longer, and just as he suspected Kageyama whips his head around, the skin of his face grey and eyes dead as a fish, making direct contact with Tsukishima’s. He has the good sense to start slowly backing away.</p><p>Hinata, completely oblivious to the unfurling chaos, sees this as an opportunity.</p><p>“Kageyamaaa!” He shrieks, grabbing the sad, lonely, stray ball Kageyama had just let drop to the floor and throws it up to spike it into his head, but misses by a wide margin. Such a wide margin that it flies directly into Yamaguchi’s chest, knocking him backwards and directly into the cart full of volleyballs. Hinata sure packed a punch into that spike.</p><p>Yachi shrieks, Nishinoya and Tanaka fall over each other in maniacal laughter and Hinata starts sputtering an apology, rushing to his side.</p><p>“I’m so sorry! I was aiming for Kageyama! That jerk!” Hinata blathers.</p><p>Yamaguchi lies on the cold gymnasium floor, watching the volleyballs scatter in slow motion. The pain in his back is sharp, he realizes in passing that he really must have smacked it hard on the metal cart. It hurts so good. <em>Why me, why oh why me. Just let me disappear. I am jealous of those volleyballs, bouncing away, far away. Look how carefree they are! </em>The dramatic barrage of teenage thought continues until the only face that could snap him out of it appears in his field of view. Tsukishima is bent over his apparently lifeless body, brows furrowed, mouth set in a small frown. The fluorescent lights of the gymnasium behind his head make the gold curls framing his face look like a halo. <em>Hello, angel.</em></p><p>“What was that?” Tsukishima questions.</p><p>Yamaguchi decides it’s in both of their best interests to ignore that and snap the hell out of it. He sits up abruptly, rubbing the back of his head.</p><p>“Sorry Tsukki!” he smiles.</p><p>“Interesting you’d apologize given this is actually sort of my fault”. Tsukishima gestures at the scene around them, looking back at Kageyama who still appears frozen on the spot. Yamaguchi supposes that is correct. He doesn’t take back the apology, though.</p><p>There are too many concerned eyes on him. “Ah, I’m fine! Really, don’t worry Hinata!” he waves his hands frantically in front of his face to shoo the onlookers away.</p><p>“I’ll buy you an extra meat bun after practice, I swear!” Hinata promises.</p><p>Yamaguchi stands, brushing himself off and he is acutely aware that he is definitely going to bruise. He reaches back to feel out the tender spot, but to no avail. Of course the afflicted region was just out of reach. He grumbles to himself for a moment before he feels a feather light touch on his back, fingers belonging to none other than Tsukishima. His heart leaps and a sudden weight swoops through his stomach.</p><p>“Here?” Tsukishima asks coolly. Yamaguchi might be trembling but he doesn’t want to register the sort of reaction his body is having right now, so he shakes his head, keeping his movements small and controlled.</p><p>Tsukishima’s fingers ghost up the centre of his back, skittering to his shoulder blade until Yamaguchi winces and yelps. “Ah.” He concedes. He leaves his fingers there for a suspiciously long moment, then removes them from Yamaguchi’s back, who is entirely devastated and relieved at the same time.</p><p>“Well, that’ll probably bruise. Your head okay?” Tsukishima questions, keeping his voice even and only maybe a teeny bit concerned. Yamaguchi could be reaching though.</p><p>“Yeah, my back and chest took the majority of the blow” He reassures.</p><p>“Good, because I think I broke Kageyama’s brain. The poor sap probably hadn’t even realized he likes boys yet.” Tsukishima says, rude and sharp. He snorts. “I think I just outed him to himself”.</p><p>“That’s not very nice, Tsukki.” Yamaguchi places a hand on his hip. “What if I outed you just now?”</p><p>Tsukishima smirks. “Oh please, I don’t need an outing. People assume.”</p><p>For a brief moment Yamaguchi wonders what people think of his preferences. He also wonders what they could be, other than tall, snarky, blonde, childhood best friends.</p><p>Tsukishima claps his hands together with finality. “Shall we get back on the court before Daichi makes a return?”<br/><br/>“Yes Tsukki!”</p><p>Yamaguchi hurries forward, but is interrupted by a sharp press of Tsukishima’s index finger into the blooming bruise on his back, making him jump and squeak. Before he could turn around to catch the culprit in the act, Tsukishima had strode past him.</p><p>Yamaguchi could practically see his grin on the back of his head.</p><p>Being insecure and topless in front of a mirror was a recipe for disaster, but Yamaguchi really wanted to check out the bruise that had undoubtedly formed on his back by now. After getting frustrated at his distasteful chest freckles, he sucked it up and put an end the body shame festival he was holding. Grabbing his shoulder, he turned around and craned his neck to examine the reflection of his back in the mirror. Sure enough, his complexion darkened into a deep purple and blue splotch that stretched from the middle of his right shoulder blade to the centre line of his back. For a moment he was ticked, then was hit with a stroke of genius.</p><p>Snatching his phone from the counter, he flicked open his camera and assumed the position, pointing the camera at the right spot on the reflection of his back and zoomed in to frame the bruise. Pleased that he managed to get most of the bruise with minimal amounts of bony shoulder and back, he started typing out a text to Tsukishima. It was his turn, after all.</p><p>7:36 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>&gt;:[<br/></em><em>[1 Picture Message]</em></p><p>He sets his phone down and starts shrugging his shirt back on, but is distracted by buzzing.</p><p>7:36 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Shit, I did that huh. </em></p><p>7:37 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>Ya! You know, I’m not actually sorry anymore tsukki. This hurts!</em></p><p>7:38 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!<br/><em>If I apologize then will you zoom out?</em></p><p>Yamaguchi is unsure how to feel about this power he’s been given. Wait, is it really a power? He feels dirty, using shirtless pictures as currency for Tsukki-apologies. He decides he likes it.</p><p>7:39 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>You could give it a try.. </em></p><p>7:39 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!<br/><em>Yamaguchi. </em></p><p>7:40 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>Yes tsukki?</em></p><p>7:40 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!<br/><em>From the bottom of my cold dead heart, I apologize. </em></p><p>Yamaguchi sighs dreamily. He can’t even feel the embarrassment he probably should given the fact he just swooned at that stupid text like it was a handwritten love letter. He should also probably be slightly concerned about the power Tsukishima holds over him, reducing him to a pliant puddle with a snarky apology, but something that feels this good couldn’t be bad, right?</p><p>He takes his time getting the photo right. Angles are important. The lighting as well. He stands with his back to the mirror, phone in his left hand perched on his bare right shoulder, camera facing the mirror. He remembers how Tsukishima hid the bottom half of his face the last time photos were passed between them, and does the same.He decides to frame the photo so that it cuts off at the curve of his lower back, leaving the rest to imagination. He feels a strange power flow through him, a stark contrast to the distaste he felt moments earlier. <em>Is this what feeling wanted does to a person?? I’ll become a monster! </em></p><p>The setting sun casts an orange glow to the room, his complexion warm though his skin shivers with apprehension. He studies the photo carefully for a moment. The shadows play on his angular shoulder blades. The freckles splattering his shoulders are illuminated. The bruise is dark and stands out as the focal point of the photo.</p><p>He is pleased.</p><p>7:46 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>Fine.<br/></em><em>[1 Picture Message]</em></p><p>7:48 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!<br/><em>Holy shit. You are art, Yamaguchi, not me. </em></p><p>His head spins. Having Tsukishima direct Yamaguchi’s own words back at him like that was too much to process.</p><p>7:48 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!<br/><em>I’d like to touch your back again. Would you like that too? </em></p><p>Now Yamaguchi really has to sit down, settling on the bath mat, back pressed against the bathroom sink cupboard. <em>Breathe in, breathe out</em>, he reminds himself.</p><p>7:50 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>Yes tsukki. I would. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. mr vanilla</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Are you going to kiss me, Kei?” Yamaguchi questions with a boldness he would typically be far, far too anxious for. But right now he is floating on a nebula of confidence, enjoying the birds eye view of the two of them holding onto each other in the empty club room.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Is there a reason for the Karasuno boys to discuss Twilight in this chapter? Probably not. Does it add to the plot though? Also no, but here it is. My pre-emptive apologies.</p><p>Title is in reference to Tendou's nickname for Tsukki in the english dub. Linked in the text because I think I'm funny.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>7:52 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Good. </em></p><p>7:52 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>You’d better get on it tsukki, bruises don’t last that long </em></p><p>7:53 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>I’ll get right on it Yamaguchi. </em></p><p>Yamaguchi is holed up on the bathroom floor clutching his phone, eyes flickering over texts long sent. <em>Yes Tsukki! Touch me! Use those stupidly long delicate fingers to press into me. Make it snappy!</em>  His lizard brain directs.</p><p>He leans back, sinking his back into the cupboards and sighs. He leans particularly into his bruise and winces, pretending its Tsukshima’s rude touch like earlier today.</p><p>Unraveling why Tsukishima’s fingers pressing on the sore spot on his back is oh-so exciting to him feels like he is peering over the edge of a balcony on a high rise building, wind whistling menacingly below, it’d be so easy to take that step off, but highly unadvisable unless he wants to fucking die. He ponders if it could be something about intimacy and vulnerability, or a somehow less scary thought, perhaps he just finds pleasure in the pain. Perhaps the most likely possibility is a little more pathetic, he thinks, and his stomach feels heavy when he lands on the fact it could simply be Tsukishima’s attention, in any way shape or form, that puts him into this state.  </p><p>He idly realizes it is probably a little too early to be getting riled up like this. His mother will probably be calling him down for dinner in a couple minutes. So instead of imagining any number of scenarios involving the use of Tsukishima's fingers, he works on steadying his breathing and loosening his grip on his cell phone. He re-reads Tsukishima’s texts. <em>He’d better get right on it. </em></p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Not so fast”. Ukai holds his arm out in front of gym door, preventing the passage of the four first years. He has that constipated sort of look on his face that he gets when he’s either fiending for a cigarette, or being driven out of his mind by the twelve stinking teenage boys he has voluntarily taken under his proverbial wing. Yamaguchi thinks that in this moment, the constipation is likely caused by the latter. Could also be a combination of the two though, who really knows.</p><p>Ignoring the puzzled, and irked in the case of Tsukishima, faces of the four boys, Ukai continues. “Wind sprints. All four of you. Now”. He had the tendency to speak in tiny sentences when particularly ticked. </p><p>“Wha – ”</p><p>Ukai silences the protests by holding his hands up in front of him.</p><p>“I don’t. Want to hear it. All I know is that the commotion yesterday was caused by the four of you. That's all I need to know.”</p><p>Yamaguchi idly wonders who snitched, but also considers the possibility that Ukai actually does have eyes on the back of his head as he likes to warn of.<br/><br/>“You wound me, Coach. Lumping me in with these two” Tsukishima gestures to the two he likes to call baboons, chimpanzee, apes of any sort really.</p><p>Hinata and Kageyama simultaneously pop a blood vessel.</p><p>Ukai rakes a hand down his face. Using the index and middle finger of his free hand, he points at Yamaguchi and Tsukishima.</p><p>“Bonnie and Clyde, twenty-five reps.” This makes Yamaguchi smile. <em>Bonnie and Clyde, heh. </em></p><p>He moves his target to Hinata and Kageyama. “Dumb and dumber, fifty reps”. He says with finality, turning on his heel and slamming the gym door behind him.</p><p>His voice is muffled but booms through the closed door, “I’ll be enjoying a pack out here until you finish, so don’t even think of blowing it off.” So it was the combination. </p><p>Tsukishima glances at Yamaguchi, a wicked grin on his face. He points down at Kageyama and Hinata’s heads <em>(ugh, he’s so tall)</em>, and mouths, enunciating each syllable carefully with his lips, “wait for it.”</p><p>Within a split second Hinata and Kageyama are at each other’s throats arguing about who is Dumb, and who is Dumber. Kageyama insists he is neither but if he had to be one, he’d obviously be Dumb and Hinata would be Dumber. Hinata argues the opposite. Tsukishima sniggers. The pair takes off, tearing down the length of the gym and Yamaguchi thinks it’s likely they’ll finish their fifty reps before him and Tsukishima finish their twenty-five.</p><p>The gym door creaks open, revealing Tanaka’s head stacked on top of Nishinoya’s, looking like a pair of mad scientists peering down the eyepiece of a microscope, scrutinizing them. Yamaguchi thinks it is crime they aren’t subjected to the same punishment. Tsukishima seems to think their gaze is a crime in itself.</p><p>Tsukishima narrows his eyes. “And what are you looking at?” he questions, a simple statement he manages to drip with malice.</p><p>They file back into the gym, snickering. From behind them Azumane reveals himself, the mechanism by which he was able to hide his hulking body behind the likes of Nishinoya and Tanaka completely unknown.</p><p>“We were just coming back to get some individual practice spiking and receiving, but watching you poor saps suffer is a nice little bonus” Nishinoya preens, chin raised and smirking.</p><p>Tsukishima stares at him blankly and accentuates the motion of pulling his headphones over his ears and pressing down for good measure to ensure any Noya-generated noise is cancelled before setting off in a jog to start his punishment sprints. Nishinoya grins wider, sticks his tongue out, and flashes him the finger once Tsukishima’s back is to him.</p><p>“Fuck you too.” <em>Guess he didn’t wait long enough. Fuck me though please, Tsukki.</em></p><p>“You wish!” <em>Unfortunately for you Noya, he does not want to fuck you. You’d be so lucky!</em></p><p> </p><p>“Guys… was it that bad? Please don’t make fun of me…” Azumane mumbles.</p><p>“Man, he might have a point. There were some good parts.” Nishinoya concedes after a few seconds of awkward silence, reaching up to pat Azumane's shoulder.</p><p>“Yeah, I mean, it was pretty entertaining. Generally speaking.” Tanaka agrees.</p><p>Yamaguchi feels as though his lungs are going to explode and doesn’t have the energy to prod them for further information on what actually isn’t that bad, so he keeps listening as he finishes the twenty-fourth rep of his punishment sprints.  </p><p>“The makeout scene was pretty legit. Really thought he was going to bite her face off or some shit”. Nishinoya say as if he has put quite the effort into synthesizing that gem of a thought.</p><p>“Well, it was more romantic in the books.” Azumane adds thoughtfully.</p><p>“No fucking way you read the book. Wait, <em>books</em>! You did not!” Tanaka explodes, doubling over in laughter. “You hearing this shit Noya?!” He cackles, slapping Nishinoya on the back with a resounding <em>boom</em>.</p><p>“H-hey they’re super p-popular…” Azumane manages.</p><p>Yamaguchi catches up with Tsukishima who has just finished a sprint and is bent in half and holding his knees, heaving. He does have an idea of what the three of them are talking about but is a tad too ashamed to bring it up organically to Tsukishima, not quite prepared for the incessant teasing that will surely ensue if he reveals himself.</p><p>“Any idea.. what they’re.. on ‘bout” He sputters between deep inhales. Tsukishima looks up at him blankly and points to the headphones strapped to his skull. <em>No, idiot</em>, his face says.</p><p>“Right. Sorry Tsukki!” He grins forcefully, still heaving and pulls up the collar of his jersey to wipe his sweaty face. When he pulls the fabric down from his face and lets it drop back into place, he notices Tsukishima has removed his headphones and is looking at him quizzically.</p><p>“They’re talking about that trash film where an American high school girl gets her panties in a bunch for a 120-year old vampire. Or something like that. But, you knew that already”. <em>Fuck</em>. <em>He got me.</em></p><p>Yamaguchi’s eyes widen as he tries to backtrack, “I – how did – ” he starts, but is cut off.</p><p>“There are very few, if any, things I don’t know about you already, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima states matter-of-factly. “Also, you’re bad at playing it cool.”</p><p>His mouth slowly forms a sly smirk and Yamaguchi can see the idea forming behind his eyes. He reaches out to clap a hand over his mouth, but Tsukishima easily stretches away and calls to the group of bozos currently in the middle of a heated discussion about if they’d rather be a vampire or werewolf. “We got a Twilight fan over here!” He points down at Yamaguchi.</p><p>Azumane beams. “Ah, a man of taste, Yamaguchi!” he responds wholeheartedly, doing a little jump onto his tiptoes. Yamaguchi cringes. <em>Sometimes I hate you, Tsukki. Curse you! It makes me want you even more!</em></p><p>Hinata and Kageyama have simultaneously finished their punishment sprints as Yamaguchi finished his, just as expected, and saunter over to the rest of the pack.</p><p>“What’s a Twilight?” Kageyama asks. Tsukishima always comments on how there is nothing going on behind Hinata’s eyes, the poor sweet boy, but Yamaguchi would argue there is even less behind Kageyama’s at times. This is one of them.</p><p>“Ugh, Stupidyama, it’s just <em>Twilight</em>. The vampire movie?!” Hinata sneers at him. Kageyama stares at him with those dead fish eyes.</p><p>“It was actually a book series first!” Azumane announces proudly. Tanaka erupts in a fit of laughter and slaps his knee out of amusement. He’s slapped it so many times at this point an angry red welt has started to form and Yamaguchi wonders if any of these freaks feel pain the same way normal humans do, himself included. </p><p>“So, what I’m hearing is, only two of us haven’t actually seen the godforsaken thing?” Tanaka questions, still guffawing.</p><p>“What makes you think I haven’t seen it?” Tsukishima replies dryly with a hand on his hip. Tanaka narrows his eyes at him then explodes into another fit of laughter. “Good one, man!” Tsukishima does not look grateful for the compliment.</p><p>“Ooo Kayegama, let’s watch it this weekend! After Saturday practice?!” Hinata rounds on him, tugging the side of his jersey, resembling a child begging their mother for ice cream. Yamaguchi knows Tsukishima is holding his tongue.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“You’re no fun! Come on! What if we all do? Team bonding!” Hinata blathers, now rounding on the rest of them. “Right, right?!” He nods enthusiastically.</p><p>“Wow, fantastic idea Hinata!” Tsukishima replies dryly, clapping his hands together and bending down to his level, which anyone else would have picked up as the patronizing act it was, but Hinata beamed at him. “Yay! I’ll host! We can all head over after Saturday practice together!”. Tanaka and Nishinoya exchange skeptical glances and Azumane looks like he cannot contain his excitement, doing the weird tip-toe thing again.</p><p>Tsukishima glares at Hinata, eyes narrowing over his frames. He then seems to decide it’s not worth the energy and straightens to his full height. Yamaguchi swoons.</p><p>“Well, that was… educational.” He turns to leave with a nonchalant wave. “Coming Yamaguchi?”</p><p>“Yes Tsukki!”</p><p>Exiting the gym, Yamaguchi overhears Kageyama mutter, “you know Hinata, I don’t think he was being serious…”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>With just the two of them in the club room it's completely silent other than the soft bass line resounding from Tsukishima’s headphones lazily thrown around his neck, and Yamaguchi worries Tsukishima can hear his heart clattering in his chest. On the spot, he devises a plan to follow up on their text flirtation despite the voice in his head reminding him this is likely an elaborate ruse borne of Tsukishima’s boredom. If so, he’s already embarrassed himself this far, would a follow up really make matters worse? <em>No</em>. He tries to reminds himself. <em>It can't be like that</em>.</p><p>At his locker, he glances towards Tsukishima, already buttoning up his uniform shirt.</p><p><em>Shit, hurry it up Yamaguchi! </em>With a little too much enthusiasm than entirely necessary, he whips off his jersey, tosses it into the locker and stands there shirtless for a moment, hands balling into fists at his sides. Tsukishima seems to notice the rather manic energy radiating off of him.</p><p>“Yama – ” Tsukishima begins to question, but Yamaguchi doesn’t let him finish. <em>Fuck it, I'm going in!</em></p><p>He closes the distance between them in a few short steps and stands toe to toe with him, still very shirtless. Their height difference means he is exactly eye level with his Adam’s apple, which he focuses on to stay steady. He’s too close to look up and make eye contact, so instead he speaks directly to the skin of Tsukishima’s pale throat.</p><p>“The other night… what you said… t-touch me Tsukki.” He manages, voice cracking embarrassingly near the end of his request. He realizes his eyes are squeezed shut, but senses the muscles in Tsukishima’s torso relax and feels a puff of air on the top of his head from a soft exhale. He imagines a smirk on Tsukishima’s lips.</p><p>Wordlessly, Tsukishima brings his fingers to Yamaguchi’s waist, the touch feather-light.</p><p>Maybe he’s high on the thrill of anyone walking in and catching them partaking in questionable behaviour shared between two friends, or maybe confidence really does seep from Tsukishima’s pores because after the initial jolt he feels from his touch, he suddenly feels strong.                                                                                                                                   </p><p>He didn’t have any real expectations, he just wanted those graceful fingers on his body again. Tsukishima’s fingers grip the skin of his waist for a moment before moving to the small of his back, where he fans them out to palm at his skin. <em>Oh Christ</em>. <em>Feels good. Too good, Tsukki. </em>Yamaguchi lifts his hands to find purchase along the long lines of Tsukishima’s torso, tangling his fingers in his uniform shirt to keep himself steady. His head is swimming and heat is pooling in his stomach and he loves it.</p><p>Tsukishima suddenly pulls him into what could be described as a hug, but given the way they are gripping onto each other it feels far more intimate than the word suggests. He pulls his hands up his back, inch by inch, and pauses just before the bruise spread across his shoulder blade. Yamaguchi tenses, preparing for the sweet release of pain he was sure would follow, but instead, Tsukishima runs his hand ever-so softly along the injured skin, rubbing slow, soothing circles. He nuzzles his head in Yamaguchi’s neck and inhales, continuing the languid pattern of soft, protective touches across the expanse of his back. Yamaguchi is awestruck.</p><p>The realization hits him. He remembers back to the sharp poke of Tsukishima’s finger into the bruised skin of his back the previous day and understands that Tsukishima was just using rather kinky methods to grab his attention, placing him in the palm of his hand, with no real interest in that sort of thing to begin with. <em>So smart, Tsukki. You read me like a book</em>. He is kind of touched. He guesses it’s not too shocking that between the two of them, Tsukishima’s tastes are a tad more <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RFtZut9aJUU&amp;ab_channel=Sumbunnny">vanilla</a>.</p><p>He smiles into his shoulder before pulling back, hands still firm on his chest, and allows his eyes to flutter shut momentarily as he inhales Tsukishima in all his post-practice glory. He opens his eyes again to stare into his golden ones. He stares back intently. It’s something to behold, having Tsukishima’s undivided attention and Yamaguchi notices warm, half-lidded eyes flit down to his mouth momentarily. His heart bangs incessantly in his chest.</p><p>“Are you going to kiss me, Kei?” Yamaguchi questions with a boldness he would typically be far, far too anxious for. But right now he is floating on a nebula of confidence, enjoying the birds eye view of the two of them holding onto each other in the empty club room. Tsukishima’s cocked eyebrow and piercing stare would usually have him ducking away, hiding his face in shame but he is too far gone. <em>That’s right! Look at me! Look at me!</em> His high-on-life brain titters.</p><p>The corner of Tsukishima’s lips turn as he up exhales sharply in amusement, pulling Yamaguchi’s head down to his shoulder again. Yamaguchi feels lips in his hair and is glad Tsukishima has quite the hold on him or he may have dropped like a stone. Or maybe not, he seems to be lacking the ability to feel embarrassment as of late.</p><p>“No.” Tsukishima mumbles into his hair. “I want to savour you”.</p><p>Yamaguchi hums into his shoulder, grip tightening on his shirt. <em>Interesting choice of words Tsukki. But I get it. I get you, I do!</em> And he really does understand despite the suggestive phrasing. He supposes it's quite rare and unusual, what they have. What’s the rush? He’s also certain a future, hornier Yamaguchi will want to kick his present-self for going down so easy like this, but that’s for a future Yamaguchi to deal with.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't even know. </p><p>Thank you for reading :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 15 step</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He thinks it’s quite wonderful, how they have managed to claim each other without using direct words of confirmation, or even physical testimony such as a first kiss.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pining Kageyama, enter stage right.</p><p>Also, ya'll thought I was kidding about the boys watching Twilight? Hinata was very insistent. He's all about that found family.</p><p>Chapter title is the song that plays as the credits roll at the end of Twilight (15 Step - Radiohead), because I'm a fucking loser who knows this information.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Whatever you do, for the love of Christ, please don’t move. Just keep steady, </em>Yamaguchi begs his thighs, which typically start to shake in tense situations. His right thigh is currently pressed against a certain six-foot-two best friend’s, and his left is pressed into a strangely soft volleyball club vice-captain’s. <em>Curse you, Hinata residence’s oddly wide two-seater.</em></p><p>He’s almost certain Sugawara did this on purpose. He was far too quick to plant himself down beside Yamaguchi once he had finally mustered up the courage to nonchalantly wander over to the two-seater couch Tsukishima had claimed for himself.</p><p>Tsukishima was doing that thing that only boys with long, long legs can pull off: feet planted far apart on the floor, legs open, blocking any newcomers to his claimed couch territory. If someone of Hinata’s height tried something like this it’d look like he was purposefully displaying his crotch to the room, but there’s something about Tsukishima’s stupidly long legs that made it look effortless. <em>Hot, hot, hot</em>, the primitive part of Yamaguchi’s brain feels the need to constantly remind him that his best friend is stupidly hot.</p><p>He likes to believe he is outwardly keeping some sort of cool despite the fact he can practically see the thousands of mini Yamaguchis that control the mechanics of his brain running around, putting out the electrical fires that spontaneously combust every time Tsukishima shifts his position on the couch. He imagines one of them running to his brain stem and hollering, <em>shut up, will you! I already know he is damn fine!</em></p><p>Yamaguchi had just scooted beside Tsukishima with an aloof “hey” whilst pretending to send a text, when Sugawara had bounded over proclaiming “close them legs, boy!”, grabbing Tsukishima’s knees and clapping them together, effectively pushing Yamaguchi closer into Tsukishima’s body as he plopped beside them with a flourish. He supposes that part wasn’t so bad.</p><p>Sugawara proceeds to slide his arm up around the back of the couch, suspiciously close to his shoulders, rambling about volleyball plays or weekend plans, or literally anything else that Yamaguchi was very much not listening to. He is not one for violence. But in that moment he wanted to throw Sugawara out of a window. He pictured Sugawara flying through the air after being tossed, somersaulting once, gracefully landing on his feet, then looking back at him with his signature shit-eating grin, because he would. Yamaguchi scowls internally. <em>C</em><em>ockblock</em>.</p><p>Yamaguchi is suddenly suspicious of every member of the Karasuno boys’ volleyball team. There’s no way this level of discomfort could be completely accidental. Something of this magnitude had to be premeditated. This could just be his overactive imagination again though, he isn’t entirely sure. He idly wonders if Hinata could have been in on the elaborate ruse to make him wildly uncomfortable, with his insistence that watching a teen vampire romance falls under the category of team bonding, packing everyone into his living room for a ‘viewing party’.</p><p>Upon further inspection of said endearing little decoy, he realizes this is unlikely. Hinata is spread out on his belly on the floor, feet kicking pleasantly behind him, absolutely engrossed in the terrible film playing out in front of them. While inspecting Hinata, something else catches his eye.</p><p>Kageyama appeared to be in some sort of distress; he had initially chosen an isolated spot on the floor, likely for the purposes of silently playing snake on his phone during the whole ordeal, before Hinata had thrown down a blanket and plopped himself down beside him. Now, on every absentminded downswing of Hinata’s socked foot, it brushes against the hem of Kageyama’s track pants, which based on his expression, he seems to find simultaneously horrifying and enthralling.</p><p>Yamaguchi focuses in on the flush on the back of Kageyama’s neck and the beads of sweat forming behind his shaggy bangs and he wonders if Tsukishima really was onto something with his snide comment the other day. It’s strangely comforting, to know someone else is suffering as he is right now.</p><p>Currently, the leads of the movie are mashing their mouths together agonizingly slowly and the sounds of short, breathy moans reverberate off the dark living room walls. <em>Who’s idea was it to dim the lights? </em>Sweat sticks to his back. He’s going to die, right there on this couch. Kageyama might join him shortly in the afterlife based on his current state.</p><p>Yamaguchi is sort of thankful for Tanaka, and maybe even a little bit Nishinoya, due to their inability to shut up the fuck up. Unintentionally of course, but this is precisely why they have managed to relieve some of the tension that would naturally form in a room of sixteen to eighteen year old boys watching a vampire try not to bite the face off its human mate.</p><p>Currently, they are extremely proud of the sexual prowess of the film’s protagonists. </p><p>“She’s goin’ for it! That vampire D!” Tanaka announces. The characters really are just kissing, but it’s got them fired up.</p><p>“Hell yeah, get some of that human pus-!” Nishinoya starts to exclaim, leaping out of his seat, whipping off his scarf and swinging it around helicopter style. Daichi interrupts this train of thought by reaching out and clapping his hand over Noya’s dirty mouth with impressive reflex.</p><p>Yamaguchi side eyes Tsukishima. He has an expression that others, people that don’t know him like he does, might call unreadable, blank. He sees coy amusement in those intelligent eyes, and feels his phone buzz.</p><p>7:23 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Kageyama is still in the middle of his gay awakening. In case you were interested. </em></p><p>Yamaguchi bites his lip to hold back a snicker. <em>When the hell did Tsukishima manage to send that?!</em> He turns down the brightness of his phone and struggles to type out a reply with a single thumb, shielding his screen from a certain upperclassmen’s wandering eyes.</p><p>7:26 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>tsukii! :o  </em></p><p>7:27 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>… ok but you noticed too then </em></p><p>7:28 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Of course I did. He’s been checking out Hinata’s little ass for the past half hour.  </em></p><p>Yamaguchi has to squeeze his eyes shut and apply more pressure on his bottom lip to stifle the giggles threatening to breach. He takes a deep, slow, inhale, but still feels like he could blow any second.</p><p>7:32 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>Stop.. I can’t tsukki </em></p><p>7:33 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Make me.  </em></p><p>He's is in the middle of crafting a response with his thumb when his phone buzzes again.</p><p>Sender: suga-senpai<br/>7:35 pm<br/><em>~Nobody likes a busybody !! </em>( ˘ ³˘)♥</p><p>Yamaguchi stifles a yelp and shoves his phone deep into his pocket. He turns to see what sort of expression Sugawara has on his face, though he already knows. That shit-eating grin.  </p><p>He tries to focus on the movie but instead checks back in on the Kageyama situation. Hinata must have shifted positions during the time Yamaguchi’s attention was elsewhere, his small frame is now scooted further back, foot idly swinging higher up, now brushing on Kageyama’s thigh, who now looks exponentially more distressed than he did before. Yamaguchi watches as he lifts a trembling hand, moves it towards Hinata’s ankle, and stops midair, hovering a couple inches above where Hinata's foot will brush his thigh. He holds it there for a moment, then pretends to scratch an itch on his face. <em>Hm, never took Kageyama for the pining type</em>.</p><p>He tears his eyes away, suddenly ashamed to have intruded this intimate moment. He knows the feeling.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Can we stop at Shimada Mart on the way home?” Tsukishima asks as they step off the bus at their stop into the cool night air.  </p><p>“Sure, Tsukki, whaddya need?” Yamaguchi is quick to please.</p><p>“Bleach. For my eyes.” Tsukishima deadpans.</p><p>“Ugh, you’re a snob, you know that?” Yamaguchi complains. Upon a second re-watch the movie was just as terrible as he remembered it to be, which only added to its entertainment value in Yamaguchi’s opinion. He likes trashy romance films. The soundtrack was also much better than he remembered. He makes a mental note to bring this up with Tsukishima later, the music elitist that he is.</p><p>“Shut up, Yamaguchi.” He snips. “And it’s not just because of the movie. I need to burn the image of Kageyama sweating over Hinata’s behind from my brain.”</p><p>Yamaguchi loses it, finally allowing that fit of laughter out, his warm breath condensing into puffs of fine mist. Overlaying the giddy feeling of laughing at Tsukishima’s quip, he remembers the pang of guilt he felt while watching Kageyama struggle to keep his cool. He can’t help but wonder if the others have noticed him ogling Tsukishima, which he’s surely done his fair share of lately, and if it’s made anyone uncomfortable.</p><p>It used to make him uncomfortable. He knows this is an understatement; it used to hurt. Hurt like hell. When he had started feeling things for Tsukishima back in eighth year, things that he was taught boys should not feel for their male friends, he made himself sick over it, stayed home from school for three days. He struggled long and hard with the admiration, jealously, and attraction that floated through nondescript parts of his body when tried to pin down his feelings for Tsukishima. He despised how weak it made him feel, when Tsukishima had only ever helped him be strong.</p><p>As time passed he grew accustomed to housing a big, dumb crush, for lack of a better word, on his best friend. It turned into white noise, something that was ever present and always going to be a part of him.</p><p>Sometime during this past year, though, things began to change. Yamaguchi supposes the tipping point was over the summer when he had to literally shake some sense into Tsukishima at the Tokyo training camp. Somewhere along the line, he had stopped viewing him as a deity unbothered by practical human interaction and unaffected by societal norms, and started to realize he might actually just be a little depressed. Needed a kick in the ass that Yamaguchi was happy to provide, and Tsukishima was surprisingly receptive to.</p><p>Then there’s the events of the past month. If this past year taught Yamaguchi that Tsukishima held deep respect for him, beyond what he considered strictly plausible, this past month had started teaching him of something entirely new – Tsukishima’s attraction to him. They are both far too intelligent to feign ignorance of the situation they’ve constructed. Despite this, ever since that first bout of suggestive late-night texting a month ago, their game of chicken had continued with no end in sight.</p><p>Yamaguchi interrupts his own train of thoughts, “say, Tsukki, did you keep those photos of me?”</p><p>Tsukishima stops dead in his tracks. Yamaguchi sometimes had a tendency to let certain thoughts better kept to himself slip. Tsukishima is used to this. This caught them both off guard, though.</p><p>Yamaguchi claps his hand to his mouth and whips around to face the now still Tsukishima. <em>You did not just say that out loud,</em> his brain mocks him.<em> You just broke the third wall, fool!</em></p><p>He knows it is simply ridiculous to be embarrassed by this when just yesterday he had cornered him in the clubroom, shirtless, and demanded his touch. Somehow this feels worse. It indicates this is premeditated; that there is a possibility beyond this being nothing but an elaborate inside joke constructed by their horny teenaged brains.</p><p>“I – you – don’t have to answer that.” Yamaguchi manages, dropping hands to his sides.</p><p>Tsukishima fiddles with his glasses and Yamaguchi notices he is blushing. <em>Tsukki is blushing</em>. His inner voice feels the need to re-iterate the obvious. Tsukishima's blush and scowl seem to be telling opposite stories.</p><p>“It’s fine.” Tsukishima says. One hand is still adjusting the arm of his frames as the other pulls his phone from his pocket. “If you must know, I did. Here”. He closes the distance between them with a single stride and offers Yamaguchi his phone.</p><p>Yamaguchi can do nothing but stare at it dumbly.</p><p>“Well? Jesus Yamaguchi, are you slow?” He flicks his wrist to emphasize his phone.</p><p>With shaking hands, he accepts his offering and uses his pointer finger to start keying in the passcode. He and Tsukishima know each other’s passcodes. Purposeful, mutually assured destruction.</p><p>“Oh.” <em>Oh</em>.</p><p>Once past the home screen of Tsukishima’s phone, Yamaguchi sees it. Sees himself. Lying on his bed. In Tsukishima’s jersey, pulled up to expose a sliver of stomach and bare thighs albeit a pair of briefs. He is Tsukishima’s phone background.</p><p>“Th-that picture I sent. It’s your b-background photo.” Yamaguchi feels his pulse in his ears.</p><p>“Ob-viou-sly.” Tsukishima drawls.</p><p>They stare at each other and Yamaguchi wonders just how long they had been circling each other before the events of this past month, even before the first bold messages were sent.</p><p>He thinks it’s quite wonderful, how they have managed to claim each other without using direct words of confirmation, or even physical testimony such as a first kiss.</p><p>Tsukishima sharply exhales out of his nose. “If you have an issue with it I can change – ”</p><p>“No!” Yamaguchi doesn’t let him finish the thought. He locks his phone and holds it with an outstretched hand.</p><p>“I like it.” He states firmly, as Tsukishima’s gloved fingers brush his for longer than strictly necessary as he takes his phone back.</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>They start walking again. The evening air stings his cheeks.</p><p>“Do you think he’ll ever do anything about it?” Yamaguchi suddenly speaks up after a few moments of silence. He realizes he is being vague, but Tsukishima seems to always pick up on what he means.</p><p>“No.” Tsukishima replies firmly. “He won’t, and Hinata is sexually attracted to volleyballs, so it’s a lost cause.” He states with finality, making an aloof gesture with a gloved hand.</p><p>Yamaguchi giggles at that, but can’t help but feel uneasy. He thought it’d be a good distraction to bring up another will-they-won’t-they situation, but his anxiety seems to have reared its ugly head and is associating Tsukishima’s opinion on Hinata and Kageyama’s relationship with their own. <em>Shut up, brain. You saboteur.</em> He chastises himself.</p><p>Tsukishima seems to understand Yamaguchi’s silence is not comfortable.</p><p>“So, about that bleach.” Tsukishima offers, glancing at Yamaguchi over his black frames.   </p><p>He smirks. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s stop off at Shimada Mart.”</p><p>They walk side by side as late-March flurries swirl passively around them. Yamaguchi fights the overwhelming urge to shove his hands in Tsukishima’s jacket pocket and take his gloved hand in his own.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. slip away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>How did he know? Could Tsukishima hear them? The thousands of nondescript voices blaring unbearably loudly in his head, preventing rational thought? This is improbable. But Tsukishima was sitting on the bathroom floor with him, telling him to let them slip away. Eventually, he did.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's Yamaguchi backstory time y'all - TW: anxiety, light description of distress/panic attack. Tsukishima just cares about him a lot, ok?? </p><p>Lyrics link to the song they're from in the text.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yamaguchi was thirteen when he had his first and only panic attack.</p><p>Given the relentless bullying he was subjected to in his earlier years, a breaking point was reached much later than one would expect. He supposes the bullying and the anxiety are related, but he doesn’t take too much time to consider the mechanics of this; he doesn’t think about it much anymore, anyways. Yamaguchi will admit, though, he remembers parts of this day in vivid detail. And he doesn’t ever want to forget.</p><p>It was a remarkably normal week early in their ninth year. Yamaguchi hadn’t always struggled with school, most concepts actually came quite easily to him, but when they didn’t, he had no one to turn to. His grandparents are his primary caretakers as his mother travels far too often for work to accurately be considered a guardian. His father is not in the picture, had never been, which doesn’t necessarily bother him; though as a child he’d lie that and say he lives overseas, explaining why his mother travelled so much. He liked to believe this lie sometimes too.</p><p>That day, their class was being supervised by a particularly nasty substitute teacher. The teacher would force students up to the blackboard to complete a math problem if they didn’t answer correctly right away when called on. Yamaguchi was already struggling with this unit’s concepts so he prayed if he willed it hard enough he could disappear into his seat. He busied himself with looking small to avoid being singled out by Mr. Substitute, but to no avail.</p><p>He remembers feeling frozen, the only things registering were the bile stinging his throat and his heart clanging erratically in his chest as he dragged his feet up to the board. His fingers were so slick with sweat when he tried to lift a piece of chalk with shaky hands, it clattered to the floor, breaking into useless shards. His pulse was so loud in his ears that the shouts of the teacher sounded as if they were coming from the bottom of a pool. He was so, so exposed.</p><p>He’s never really remembered how he ended up stumbling out of the classroom, but the next images he can distinctly play back in his brain are the green tiles of the bathroom floor, and the cold plastic stall divider against his hot, tear-stained cheek. He had endured so much worse, why was this breaking him?</p><p>He could hear someone enter the bathroom but couldn’t bring himself to move, surely his lungs would have given out if he tried. He ignored the banging on the stall even though he recognized the red Chuck’s on the floor.</p><p>“Yamaguchi, come on, it’s me. It’s okay – just let me in, please.”</p><p>He wished he had the voice to tell Tsukishima he physically could not.</p><p>Apparently not in need of this explanation, Tsukishima had dropped to his knees and managed to fit his lanky body under the divider and into Yamaguchi’s hideout.</p><p>Yamaguchi buried his head into his hands to hide the evidence painting his face but immediately regretted it. He was already sucking in gasping breaths without actually taking in any oxygen and this new angle did not help.</p><p>Again, seemingly not needing an explanation, Tsukishima had taken Yamaguchi’s wrists – his touch soft, controlled, and steady – and placed his prized mp3 player in Yamaguchi’s hands. Wordlessly, he took the dollar-store headset from its home around his neck and placed it over Yamaguchi’s ears. Before leaning forward to press the buttons required to search for the desired track, he said hesitantly, barely above a whisper, “F-focus on this. Ignore everything else”. Tsukishima never stammered.</p><p>At first, it was overwhelming. The drumbeat boomed too loud, the synth was too distracting.</p><p>But then the voice in the headphones started singing to him. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQQljb9CyTg&amp;ab_channel=CryKristen"><em>Don't hold back, I want to break free. Cause it's singing through your body, and I'm carried by the sound. </em></a></p><p>Yamaguchi squeezed his eyes shut until he saw explosions of colour moving around the inside his lids. He pictured them matching up to the beat of the song as it dropped and rose. Everything slowly, slowly, started to come together, then melted away into the song.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, they’ll never break the shape we take. Baby let all them voices slip away-ay-ay-ay. </em>
</p><p>How did he know? Could Tsukishima hear them? The thousands of nondescript voices blaring unbearably loudly in his head, preventing rational thought? This is improbable. But Tsukishima was sitting on the bathroom floor with him, telling him to let them slip away. Eventually, he did.</p><p>They don’t talk about it, but the next day Yamaguchi finds a CD in his desk, with the words written in red permanent marker, “Don’t Cry Yamaguchi – Volume I”.</p><p>Tsukishima was a good kid who cared about his friend, so he told his parents about the events of that day. They had called Yamaguchi’s grandparents, who told his mother, who paid for a therapist, who prescribed anti-anxiety medication. To Yamaguchi’s surprise, over time, it worked. Tsukishima never had to make a Volume II.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Yamaguchi cannot sleep. Lying on his back in bed and mapping out shapes in the stucco ceiling of his bedroom never helped in the least, but he still did it to pass the time. His mind is racing, going over every vivid detail of the past couple hours. He closes his eyes and remembers the feeling of Tsukishima’s torso pressed against his back on the packed bus ride back from Hinata’s. The apprehensive look in his eyes as Yamaguchi’s shaking hands held his phone, staring at the photo of himself that Tsukishima had made his home screen background. Tsukishima’s warm breath on his neck as they waited in line in Shimada Mart. How he had pretended not to notice the bag of fruit gummies he had bought and shoved discreetly into the front pocket of Yamaguchi’s pack.</p><p>Because he’s feeling especially mushy and nostalgic, and it’s not like he was going to be able to sleep anytime soon, he rolls over and hangs his torso off the edge of his bed, hands searching the dusty floor under it for the worn shoebox he keeps mementos in. The box is littered with various items that could easily be mistaken as junk. Old, stale soap bars in the shape of shells his mother had brought back from a hotel she stayed at during a business trip. Those bendy straws in the shapes of Mickey Mouse ears from when his grandparents took him to Disneyworld when they were still mobile enough for that sort of thing. A tiny, paint-chipped triceratops figurine  Tsukishima had ‘lent’ him when they were children.</p><p>He pulls out an ancient mp3 player, missing the majority of matte plastic button covers and practically held together by duct tape, clicking it open with a satisfying pop. The red lettering is smudged, but he grins down at “Don’t Cry Yamaguchi – Volume I”. Placing an earbud in each ear, one at a time, he leans back and smashes on the worn ‘play’ button until the old machinery listens to him. He skips to his favourite track.</p><p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EP_C9J-f6BM&amp;ab_channel=SlotfaceVEVO"> <em>Slumber party's keeping our voices low; whispers spilling out in giggles; falling asleep while we're still talking; falling asleep while we're still talking. </em> </a>
</p><p>He sighs happily into the dark room. <em>I wish Tsukishima were here. </em></p><p>It dawns on him that he could be, in a way. Clicking on the lamp on his bedside table, he pulls his phone from the charger and flips the camera to face him. Somewhat unsatisfied with how his face is painted in the dim light, he picks up the mp3 player and holds in front of his mouth, leaving only the tops of his freckled cheeks and eyes crinkled from a smile.</p><p>He attaches the photo and types out a text.</p><p>11:43 pm<br/>Sender: Yams~<br/><em>Sleep isn’t happening for me, so …  :-)</em></p><p>He isn’t expecting an answer, but it seems like more often than before, when sleep evades him, it also is dodging Tsukishima. So, he lets himself hope a little bit. He’s finally nodding off to the music when his phone buzzes.</p><p>11:49 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>You are such a fucking sap, Yamaguchi. </em></p><p>11:50 pm<br/>Sender: ~Yams<br/><em>Rude tsukki! You’re the one who gave this to me you knowww </em></p><p>11:51 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!<br/><em>Don’t make me regret doing nice things for you. </em></p><p>Yamaguchi huffs. Of course Tsukishima would rip sleep from his grasp just to insult him.</p><p>11:51 pm<br/>Sender: ~Yams<br/><em>bite me tsukki !!</em></p><p>11:53 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Gladly. Any preference where?  </em></p><p>Yamaguchi bolts upright, suddenly buzzing with excitement. He wasn’t expecting it to go down like this. His brain is switched back on, electricity courses his body.</p><p>11:54 pm<br/>Sender: ~Yams<br/><em>Hm, to avoid weird stares it should probably be somewhere discreet right?? </em></p><p>11:54 pm<br/>Sender: ~Yams<br/><em>Y’know, in case it leaves a mark </em></p><p>11:55 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Of course.</em></p><p>11:55 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>I was looking for specific examples. </em></p><p>11:56 pm<br/>Sender: ~Yams<br/><em>Uh, stomach?</em></p><p>11:56 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Collarbone perhaps?</em></p><p>11:57 pm<br/>Sender: ~Yams<br/><em>Hip?? </em></p><p>11:57 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Thigh?</em></p><p>Yamaguchi wonders if the room just got a few degrees hotter. He should crack a window.</p><p>11:58 pm<br/>Sender: ~Yams<br/><em>Our volleyball shorts are pretty short tsukki.. </em></p><p>11:59 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Good point. I’d just have to do it high enough I guess. </em></p><p>Yamaguchi feels like he might be short circuiting. This started off so innocently, now here they were, discussing his best body part to be bitten, by Tsukishima's mouth no less, and he can practically smell the smoke coming out of his ears from the electrical fire in his brain. He stares dumbly at his phone, racking his brain for a reply. His phone buzzes again, restarting his heart, and he wonders just how long he had been zoned out for.</p><p>12:03 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Too far? </em></p><p>He can do nothing but scream internally. <em>This is not fair. You aren’t fair Tsukishima! How dare you! So clever, so devious, and now considerate? Gentle, even?! Kindly fuck off! </em>Yamaguchi’s brain rattles off. He smashes his keyboard in a frantic reply.</p><p>12:03 pm<br/>Sender: ~Yams!<br/><em>No!! </em></p><p>12:03 pm<br/>Sender: ~Yams!<br/><em>just thinking about how I wish you were here </em></p><p>He sort of regrets that last one. Not very secret-sexy of him.</p><p>12:05 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!!<br/><em>Here. Just pretend. Sleep now, Yamaguchi.<br/></em><em>[1 Picture Message]</em></p><p>Apprehensively, as if the photo would burn his eyes, he clicks on the picture message and peers at it with one eye shut. He lets out an exhale he didn’t realize he was holding, which ended up sounding more like a dreamy sigh, and Yamaguchi wonders if he’ll ever be able to get a proper hold of himself when Tsukishima is involved.</p><p>Tsukishima is lying on his side in bed, the photo framed from the perspective of someone lying beside him. Yamaguchi rolls onto his side and places the phone on his pillow to get the full effect. Tsukishima’s blonde waves are messy, a few strands sticking out at wayward angles at the back of his head. The light is soft from the lamp on his bedside table and Yamaguchi can practically hear the dull buzz of the lightbulb that probably needs changing soon. The warm light makes his light blonde hair glow. His glasses are nowhere to be seen, revealing his fine blonde eyelashes that are normally obstructed by his frames. He smiles at the sight of them. Yamaguchi’s eyes continue across the photo; Tsukishima’s mouth is parted in the slightest, not smiling, but not sporting his typical half-frown either. He looks peaceful. He follows the sharp line of his collarbone leading to his shoulder, skin porcelain-pale and without a flaw. <em>Unfair</em>.</p><p>He wonders if Tsukishima sleeps shirtless when he’s alone, or if he took off his shirt for the photo. Both possibilities excite him.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The seniors graduated at the end of the month and a quiet melancholy fell upon the Karasuno boys volleyball club. After the graduation ceremony Daichi, Sugawara and Azumane still attended club practice, because of course they did, but the difference in atmosphere was palpable. Even Hinata and Kageyama weren’t at each other’s throats. If it wasn’t so off-putting, Yamaguchi may have even described it as nice.</p><p>Tears were shed when Daichi passed the title of captain to Ennoshita, who gracefully accepted, despite Sugawara hanging off his back and bawling his eyes out. Yamaguchi idly wondered who would fill Sugawara’s role as the team’s loveable vice-captain.  </p><p>He brings this up to Tsukishima at a water break, who responds with a quizzical look.  </p><p>“Do you mean replace Sugawara, or fill the vice-captain role?”<br/><br/>“Uh, both?” Yamaguchi is unsure where this was going.</p><p>Tsukishima rolls his water bottle over his palms.</p><p>“Well, Tanaka would probably be the obvious choice as vice-captain. He’s one of our strongest players and knows everyone well. He’s overzealous and annoying, but so are most of the others, so there’s that.” Yamaguchi rolls his eyes; Tsukishima is so cute when he backtracks compliments.</p><p>“However…” he pauses, turning to face Yamaguchi. He places the water bottle down on the bench. “I think it also could be you.”</p><p>“Wha- me? Tsukki, come on- I’m not- I-” Yamaguchi sputters.</p><p>Tsukishima slowly shakes his head and makes a <em>tut</em> sound with his mouth. “He may have had a few screws loose, but Sugawara understood what made everyone tick, you know, how to make things flow properly. He saw things clearly and knew when to push the right buttons.”</p><p>Yamaguchi can do nothing but stare. Tsukishima takes this as a cue to continue, picking his water bottle back up to fidget with and breaking eye contact.</p><p>“Yeah, Daichi was the responsible, well-rounded captain, and we needed that. He was our backbone, and Sugawara was the glue. In a way, so are you, Yamaguchi”.</p><p>Although his confidence had improved leaps and bounds over the years, he was still shocked to be compared to something as critical as the glue that could hold a team, or anything for that matter, together. Even now, he thought of himself as somewhat of a wallflower, and he wasn’t even ashamed of that. But the fact that Tsukishima saw him in this light made something bloom in his chest.</p><p>“You’re not saying anything.” Tsukishima states. He narrows his eyes and cocks his head slightly to the side. “Last summer, when I needed a kick in the ass, only you gave it to me.”</p><p>“Yeah- Tsukki- that’s different… it’s you.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, maybe you’re right.” He places his hands on his knees and stands, then turns around to look back at Yamaguchi, still wide-eyed on the bench.</p><p>“You also spent the most time warming the bench with him in the past year, I just figured you’d have learned <em>something</em>.” He teases, smirking down at him, amber eyes sparkling.</p><p>“That’s more like it.” Yamaguchi smirks right back at him.</p><p>He thinks he might be a little crazy for the way Tsukishima can weave his sardonic sense of humour into the most earnest conversation. He might just be a little crazy in general. A few screws loose for sure. He must be, to revel in the way Tsukishima’s sharp tongue can build you up to negate you with a single, pointed jab. He takes his outstretched hand, ridiculously long fingers and all, and stands.</p><p>“None of that matters anyway. I’m not even a third year.” Yamaguchi playfully sticks out his tongue.</p><p>“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”</p><p>“Sorry Tsukki!” He’s well-aware of how not-sorry he sounds.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So that was sappier than intended.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. twist and shout</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Aw, I always knew the way to Tsukishima’s stone-cold heart was through you, Yamaguchi!” Tanaka chaffs, throwing an arm around Yamaguchi’s shoulder, ruffling his hair. Any swell of pride he feels upon being recognized as Tsukishima’s special person is immediately overshadowed by the imminent dread of his teammate’s teasing. He really doesn’t feel like being asked by Nishinoya again if him and Tsukishima had ever seen each other’s dicks (“No, not in that way man! Heh, get your mind outta the gutter! It’s just, you’ve been friends since you were what, like ten? It’s bound to have happened, right? Right!?”).</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Most of this was written past 1am. Do with this information what you will.</p><p>TW; mentions of drinking and drug use, so if that's not your thing, please skip this one.</p><p>Also, just going to drop this here: https://www.ultraboardgames.com/twister/game-rules.php</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Don’t give me that disinterested shit, Tsukishima!” Are you even a teenager? Are you even a dude? What is <em>wrong</em> with you?!” Nishinoya rambles, apparently aghast that Tsukishima denied his invitation to a ‘get-together’ at Tanaka’s that weekend.</p><p>Yamaguchi doesn’t know why they insist on calling it that. A ‘get-together’, that is. It’s pretty weak camouflage for what they are all well-aware it is – an excuse to get loaded off of an ungodly amount of alcohol provided oh-so kindly by Saeko – it’s happened before. Rather, it was attempted at least twice before, that Yamaguchi was aware of. Both times it was vehemently shut down by Daichi, who sent them all packing once Tanaka had broken out the beer. Although, on one of the following days, Sugawara had shown Yamaguchi a blurry video of Nishinoya drunkenly giving an also-plastered Azumane a lap dance, so clearly some alcohol-induced shenanigans had gone down after the first years were booted.</p><p>Now that Daichi was no longer their captain or upperclassmen, they figured it’d go off without a hitch. They hadn’t factored in Tsukishima’s homebody-tendencies to the equation though.</p><p>“Yeah bro, we need those long spindly arms of yours for cup pong!” Tanaka begs.</p><p>“Was that supposed to convince me?” Tsukishima deadpans.</p><p>Tanaka just groans, throwing his hands up in defeat.</p><p>It’s not that Tsukishima was a square or had anything against underage substance abuse. Last summer after the Tokyo training camp he and Yamaguchi had smoked a joint that Kuroo slyly shoved in Tsukishima’s pack before departing. Blazed, they had taken a trip to the Sendai City Museum and nearly got kicked out for snickering so much in the dinosaur exhibit.        </p><p><em>“Tsukki- hah- look, there’s a used tissue in the T-rex exhibit-”<br/></em> <em>"Fufufu. Even the king of dinosaurs gets hay fever I guess”<br/>"Stop-heh- the T-rex blew its nose!”<br/></em> <em>“Hahahaha”</em></p><p>Objectively, this wasn’t funny. Some asshole had just tossed their trash into the exhibit. They thought it was, though.<br/> <br/>Afterwards, they’d gone home and watched some stupid movie and ate far too much gummy candy until their jaws were sore from both peals of laughter and gnawing on the gelatin. They’d fallen asleep on the couch together and Yamaguchi had woken up with his head on Tsukishima’s lap. They never spoke about this. Looking back on that day with the lens he now has on their relationship, he wonders how exactly his head ended up there.</p><p>Nishinoya’s raspy voice brings him out of his own head. “Tsukishima, are you worried about having one-too-many and accidentally having a nice time?” He preens.</p><p>Tsukishima makes a sound of disgust. “Your under-developed taste buds are the only reason any of you can physically ingest ‘one-too-many’ of those bottles of pond water you like to call beer.”</p><p>“It’s called an <em>acquired</em> taste, Tsukishima.”</p><p>“Fetal alcohol syndrome is also acquired.”</p><p>“Dude, are you pregnant?”</p><p>“No, but your mom was when she soaked your developing brain in alcohol, apparently.”</p><p>Oh, he’d done it now. The gym erupts. Tanaka claps his hands to his cheeks and starts racing around, screaming like a banshee. Hinata parrots this although it is highly likely he doesn’t understand the insult. Kageyama groans, irritated his spiker is too occupied to receive his sets. Sugawara’s face is beet red, hands shoved over his mouth in a piss-poor attempt to conceal his shrieks of laugher. Azumane looks genuinely concerned as usual, and is waving his hands in front of his face as if that could erase Tsukishima’s unnecessarily sharp jab. Daichi has a hand clapped over his forehead and looks like he is seriously holding back giving a verbal spanking to his ex-teammates. Ennoshita has a distant look in his eyes as he stares at the gym door as if beyond it is a utopia, free of the fiery hell erupting in the gym at the moment.</p><p>“Oh, <em>fuck</em> you Tsukishima! You know what, don’t show up. We don’t need your flimsy ass ruining everyone’s fun.” Nishinoya spits. He turns on his heel and points a finger directly at Yamaguchi. “<em>You</em> better show up though.” He warns icily. <em>Nishinoya really can be scary when provoked</em>, he notes.</p><p>Yamaguchi sighs and rakes a hand down his face. Tsukishima does have a tendency to take things too far sometimes. He wonders how he picks and chooses the times to do so and if he considers the fact that more often than not, it leaves Yamaguchi to be the diplomat. Before he can reply, Tsukishima pipes up, grinning. “Fine, maybe I’ll make an appearance.”</p><p>Before Nishinoya can lunge at him, Azumane appears from behind him, stealthy as ever, grabbing him by the waist and throwing him into a fireman hold. “C’mon let’s get some ice pops on the way home.” Yamaguchi can distantly hear Nishinoya grumbling about how it’s barely even April and the store probably won’t even have his favourite flavour in stock.</p><p>“Aw, I always knew the way to Tsukishima’s stone-cold heart was through you, Yamaguchi!” Tanaka chaffs, throwing an arm around Yamaguchi’s shoulder, ruffling his hair. Any swell of pride he feels upon being recognized as Tsukishima’s special person is immediately overshadowed by the imminent dread of his teammate’s teasing. He really doesn’t feel like being asked by Nishinoya again if him and Tsukishima had ever seen each other’s dicks <em>(“No, not in that way man! Heh, get your mind outta the gutter! It’s just, you’ve been friends since you were what, like ten? It’s bound to have happened, right? Right!?”).</em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>7:50 pm<br/>Sender: ~Yams<br/><em>What are you wearing??</em></p><p>7:52 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!<br/><em>Jeans and a nice top.</em></p><p>Yamaguchi snorts. He’s resigned himself to the fact he’s obsessed with Tsukishima’s sense of humour. It really doesn’t take much for Tsukishima to reduce him to giggles these days.</p><p>7:53 pm<br/>Sender: ~Yams<br/><em>You goof. Really though??</em></p><p>7:55 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!<br/><em>I’m right around the corner. You’ll see in like 5 minutes. Chill. </em></p><p>7:55 pm<br/>Sender: ~Yams<br/><em>What should I wear then?</em></p><p>7:56 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!<br/><em>Nothing.</em></p><p>7:57 pm<br/>Sender: ~Yams<br/><em>You’d like that wouldn’t you, you perv!!</em></p><p>7:58 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!<br/><em>Yep. That’s why I suggested it. Duh. </em></p><p>8:00 pm<br/>Sender: tsukki!<br/><em>Here. Come to the door you twerp. </em></p><p>Yamaguchi has to physically restrain himself from flying down the stairs, opting to bound down three steps at a time while gripping the railing, which is still a dangerous game for an accident-prone person such as himself. He nearly crashes face-first into the front door, stopping with his hand on the knob to quickly flatten his bangs with his other, and taking a deep breath before trying his best to casually open the door. <em>How does one open a door casually? </em>Yamaguchi idly wonders as he whips open the door, realizing he is not behaving casually at all.</p><p>He looks up, then down, then up again at Tsukishima, taking him all in. Blatantly checking him out. Maybe two months ago this is something he would have been mortified to be caught doing, but there was something in the glint of Tsukishima’s golden eyes and faint upturn of the corner of his lip that told him he was fine with it, that maybe he liked being checked out by Yamaguchi.</p><p>Tsukishima’s wearing a pair of black skinny jeans that are just a tad too short and too tight; Yamaguchi knows this because he’s worn this exact pair since they were in the eighth grade. He hit his growth spurt early, so he has a plethora of old clothing items that are just a smidge too small for him, that he insists on continuing to wear. When it comes to these black jeans, though, Yamaguchi definitely does not mind. Especially when he tucks them into those sexy matte black combat boots that Akiteru got him for his birthday this year. <em>Thank the lord above for Akiteru! I really should send him a thank you card for this one, </em>his mind rambles.</p><p>Contrasting the tight jeans, his torso is clad in a comfortably loose, grey hoodie, his hands shoved in the pockets of an unzipped navy blue windbreaker that is almost comically too large. He tries to nail down the perfect descriptor of Tsukishima’s style and wonders if athletic-punk is a thing. Either way, he is fucking rocking it. He wants to straddle him, or punch him in the gut, he isn’t quite sure. Maybe both. He then notices his signature headset slung around his neck and wonders if it is critical to his anatomy. Surely, showing up with this thing is just another ploy to piss Nishinoya off.</p><p>He reaches up to playfully swat at it. “They’re probably going to be playing music you know”. He teases.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s the problem. My personal limit of Macklemore songs I’ll listen to in one sitting is currently zero, and you know Tanaka is going to surpass that in the first ten minutes.” He sneers, flashing a grin down at Yamaguchi<em>. </em></p><p>He giggles. “Nishinoya is going to maul you.”</p><p>Tsukishima crinkles his nose. “God, I really don’t like the sound of that.” <em>Okay, how about I maul you instead?</em> Yamaguchi decides to leave this to himself.</p><p>“You’re a shit disturber, you know that?” He swats at him again, letting his hand rest on  his jacket for a second too long. Before he can pull away, Tsukishima reaches up and grabs the fabric covering his wrist, inspecting his choice of sweater: knit red wool with slightly too-long sleeves.</p><p>“You’re going to sweat your ass off in this, you know.” Tsukishima gestures to the rest of his outfit, consisting of a beanie and a pair of brown corduroy pants.</p><p>“Well, then I’ll just have to take my clothes off like you originally suggested, Tsukki!” He throws right back. <em>Goddamn, our banter has been on point lately</em>, his inner voice brags.</p><p>Tsukishima can’t hide his smirk. “Let’s get this over with.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Upon arrival they are greeted by an already tipsy Sugawara. He throws his arms around them, professes his undying love to them both, and promptly bursts into tears, only to be dragged away by a starkly sober Daichi. <em>Emotional drunk, check, </em>his brain inventories.</p><p>Yamaguchi scans the scene. The Tanaka residence’s living room is dim and cozy, lit only by the light of the setting sun filtering through the window, and a string of multi-coloured Christmas lights strung across the walls, which, upon further inspection, are held up by duct tape. Yamaguchi smiles fondly to himself, no doubt Nishinoya and Tanaka’s handiwork. The duo’s bar-and-DJ station in the far corner of the room consists of two stepping stools placed side-by-side, one with an ancient, chunky laptop blaring electro-pop music, the other scattered with spirits that most definitely should not be mixed, various sliced citrus fruits, what appears to be a bottle of hot sauce, and a bowl of ramen, which he prays is Nishinoya’s forgotten dinner and not another mixer. </p><p>“Ten bucks the bowl of ramen murders that laptop by the end of the night.” Tsukishima whispers in his ear. Yamaguchi covers his mouth to conceal his sniggering.</p><p>“Nope, no, none of that! Will not be tolerated!” Tanaka chastises, bounding over to the doorway where they stand, crossing his arms into an ‘X’ shape. “No cutesy secrets. Not tonight. Nishinoya is already in a rare form, so I will not allow it!” He reiterates, pointing at the centre of their foreheads menacingly.</p><p>Tsukishima holds his hands up over his head. “I plead innocence, officer” he states dryly.</p><p>Tanaka rolls his eyes. “Of course you do. Now what’ll it be! Nishinoya has been manning the bar” – he gestures proudly to the rickety stools – “But, I think he’s trying to teach Hinata how to breakdance in the kitchen right now…plus, I think it’s best if I’m the one to get you a drink, Tsukishima.”</p><p>Tsukishima narrows his eyes. “There’s a bottle of Tabasco on your bar. I’m good, thanks.”</p><p>Tanaka sticks his tongue out and pulls down a lower eyelid at him.</p><p>He rounds on Yamaguchi next. “Yama-meister, what’ll it be!?” Yamaguchi is extremely wary of that nickname, but replies to it nonetheless. “Uh, just a beer? If that’s okay.”</p><p>“Hell yeah little man, comin’ right up!” Tanaka shouts back at him, reaching up to clap his shoulder. Yamaguchi feels like that’s reminder enough that he’s actually taller than him. Tanaka disappears into the kitchen, and Yamaguchi turns to Tsukishima with his best puppy-dog eyes.</p><p>“Be amicable?” He asks, sweetener coating his tone.</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re on about. I am always a doll.” Tsukishima huffs, shrugging off his jacket. Yamaguchi scoffs, but then Tsukishima does something that erases any retort that he could have been synthesizing; he reaches behind him and starts taking off Yamaguchi’s coat for him. He freezes when Tsukishima tugs at the shoulders.</p><p>Tsukishima drops his hands. “What.” This he states, rather than asks. Trying to recover, Yamaguchi jokes, turning around to face him, “a-and I thought chivalry was dead.” <em>Lame</em>.</p><p>Tsukishima fiddles with his glasses. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He waves a hand in an aloof gesture and exits to the living room. Yamaguchi is suddenly very thankful for the dim light hiding his pink cheeks. <em>Extra lame, </em>his brain reminds him.</p><p>As per usual, Tsukishima scouts out an empty position on the dinky couch against the back wall of the living room and starts making himself comfortable. Yamaguchi watches as he inspects a blanket thrown across its back for cleanliness, decides he is satisfied with the blanket’s hygiene, then drapes it over his legs. Yamaguchi realizes he’s grinning from ear to ear watching his friend’s strange behaviour; only Tsukishima would look like he’s settling in for a nap during the ramp-up stage of a party. He makes eye contact with Yamaguchi and pats the spot beside him on the couch expectantly, raising his eyebrows as if to say <em>“Well? You comin’?”</em></p><p>Yamaguchi giggles and holds up a finger. <em>One sec, </em>he mentally sends to Tsukishima. He crosses the living room, passing Daichi and Sugawara who are currently playing the most relaxed game of cup pong in modern history against Azumane and Ennoshita. While the rest of them are nursing beer, Sugawara is holding up a glass of clear liquid, various sliced fruits floating dubiously within it and topped with a pink cocktail umbrella. He's swaying slowly back and forth, out of sync with the music, eyes closed and smiling serenely. Yamaguchi wonders if he has ever seen another human being experiencing such peace.</p><p>He ventures to the kitchen and learns that Tanaka wasn’t exaggerating, Nishinoya is currently demonstrating how to land a one-handed handstand to Hinata, who really doesn’t seem to be getting it. Upon further observation he realizes that Hinata’s uncharacteristically poor athletic ability is due to the fact that he is utterly plastered, his cheeks flushed pink as he writhes around the floor laughing due to another failed handstand attempt, as Nishinoya exasperatingly commands instructions at him.</p><p>When Nishinoya sees him enter, he perks up. “Yamaguchi! You made it!” He runs over, lightly butting his head into his chest. It was oddly endearing. In passing, Yamaguchi wonders why he's suddenly become something of an object of interest to Nishinoya. </p><p>“Fuck, Noya, you seen the bottle opener?” Tanaka grumbles, rummaging through a junk drawer.</p><p>“Bottle opener? You mean this?!” He gestures towards his mouth. Before anyone has the mind to stop him, he grabs the bottle from Tanaka’s hand and bites off the cap with his molars. Ignoring the dumbfounded looks, he thrusts the newly-opened bottle into Yamaguchi’s hand. <em>This guy truly is certifiable,</em> Yamaguchi decides.</p><p>As if to further prove his internal conclusion, Nishinoya then hops on his back and shouts, “onward, my steed!”, pointing at doorway to the living room. He’s surprisingly hefty, but Yamaguchi manages to catch the backs of his knees, beer in hand, and hikes him further up his back to prevent them from toppling over, which he figures is the only thing more embarrassing than this non-consensual piggyback.</p><p>“Heyy, I wanna horse too!” Hinata whines, pulling himself off the floor and stumbling towards Tanaka, who grabs him by the armpits and holds him out in front of him like a pet cat. Hinata kicks his feet in the air. “Okay bud, you’re officially cut off. You hear that, Noya?!” He shouts in his direction, before swinging Hinata’s pliant body onto his back with ease, who whoops in response. <em>Messy drunk, check</em>, Yamaguchi’s brain adds to the list.</p><p>Nishinoya salutes him from his perch on Yamaguchi’s back. He can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it all as he carries Nishinoya out of the kitchen, noting Kageyama’s arrival, who seems to have taken his reserved spot beside Tsukishima. They’re sitting as far apart from each other as the couch allows in a symbiosis of avoiding social interaction. He realizes he could probably fit in the space beside them, but reconsiders doing so, given the boy currently latched onto his back and the sour face Tsukishima had started making when he noticed this. Nishinoya beats him to it; leaping off of him, skipping over to the couch and planting himself down between the two, draping his arms around both of their shoulders. He first targets Tsukishima. </p><p>“Babes, you look sad. Can I get ya something?” Nishinoya croons in Tsukishima’s ear. Tsukishima looks as if holding back a snarky retort is causing him immense physical pain.</p><p>“No thanks, I’m good.” He says coolly, face splitting into a sarcastic smile. Yamaguchi feels like an animal trainer, standing on his toes, ready to jump in at a second’s notice if this interaction turns south.</p><p>Nishinoya just grins right back at him. “Ah. Too bad”. He leans into Kageyama next. “And you, sir?” He teases, poking at Kageyama’s side.</p><p>“I run ten kilometres on Sunday mornings so I can’t.” Kageyama states evenly, the sincerity in his voice nearly comical. Nishinoya barks with laughter in response.</p><p>“Okay, okay, no drinking! That’s fine! I actually have another idea.” He states proudly, eyes shining mischievously, a wicked grin on his lips.</p><p>He points directly at Yamaguchi. “I have a feeling you’ll be good at this.”</p><p>Yamaguchi has a sinking suspicion he might be right.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When Yamaguchi was very young and very bullied, his mother’s coping strategy was to sign him up for extra-curricular athletics to help with his ‘socialization’, as she put it. He was terrified of large groups of kids, boys in particular, so she stuck to signing him up for sports that were typically female-leaning.</p><p>First was swimming, but Yamaguchi had bawled when his instructor tried to get him to jump into the deep end of the pool. Mortified, he refused to go back, so next was ballet. That was a bust too, Yamaguchi had not a single rhythmic bone in his little body. Finally, they landed on gymnastics. This one actually stuck, that is, until he found Tsukishima and volleyball. Nonetheless, by the age of ten, Yamaguchi had learned to walk the balance beam, backflip into a foam pit, and cartwheel into the splits.</p><p>He made it a point to never lose these abilities, at first, he convinced himself it was to help with agility for volleyball, but later he accepted the fact that he simply enjoyed having a skill set that most others don’t. He kind of liked being a sixteen-year old boy who could drop into the splits if prompted. Not that anyone ever would, or even knew about it, though, this was just for him.</p><p>So, it made sense that he was one of the last ones standing in the Twister tournament that Nishinoya had excitedly busted out and insisted everyone take part in. What didn’t make sense was how Nishinoya seemed to <em>know</em> that Yamaguchi would excel at it. Did he have ‘outcast forced into a childhood of gymnastics training’ written on his forehead or something? He wasn’t even sure Tsukishima remembered this, and even if he did, he and Nishinoya didn’t exactly swap secrets on the regular. Regardless of the reasoning, Nishinoya had insisted on a partnership with Yamaguchi, leading to an easy win over Sugawara and Daichi, the former apparently too wasted to distinguish between coloured circles, the latter very obviously not trying to.</p><p>This led to their current match against Hinata and Kageyama, who had easily taken down Ennoshita and Tanaka, given the duo seemed to mesh just as well on a Twister mat as they do on a volleyball court despite their stupidly competitive nature with each other. Tsukishima, who graciously offered to referee in lieu of participating, had a ‘moron’ counter going. As it stands, Kageyama had declared Hinata’s Twister skills to be moronic a whopping twenty-six times.</p><p>If Yamaguchi is being entirely honest with himself, he has to hand it to Nishinoya, this was actually quite fun, and the current match was going surprisingly smoothly for a game that deliberately aims to wraps the players' limbs around each other’s bodies. That was, until Sugawara, who’d naturally taken to manning the spinner after his elimination, declared: “Yamaguchi! Left hand, blue!”</p><p>He scans the mat, and because Yamaguchi has shit luck, the only free blue circle within arms reach is directly in-between Nishinoya’s outstretched legs, who’s currently facing him in a downward dog-esque pose. Meaning, he has to fit his much-longer torso underneath his partner’s, resulting in his ass being put perfectly on display centimetres from Nishinoya’s face.</p><p>From his new and horrifying position, he can see nothing but the mat, leaving the imagery of this current arrangement purely up to his imagination, until Sugawara shows him the inevitable photos he’ll snap on his phone, of course. He immediately regrets allowing himself to think that this could not get any more mortifying, because Nishinoya promptly proves him wrong.</p><p>“Damn, Yamaguchi. That’s a tight ass you got there!”</p><p>“Thank you Nishinoya, I’m flattered.” He deadpans from his current position between his legs. <em>Nishinoya Yu, you are a menace to society. And my love life, probably. </em></p><p>Nishinoya decides it is appropriate to continue that line of thought. “No, seriously, you could bounce a coin off this thing!” He guffaws, “have you tried?!”</p><p>Yamaguchi begins to wonder if Tsukishima is reacting in any sort of way to this scene, but again, Nishinoya answers for him.</p><p>“What’s that face Tsukishima? You’ve tried? Did it work?” He continues, unbothered.</p><p>“You an expert on boy butt anatomy, Nishinoya?” Tsukishima retorts.</p><p>“Nah, not just boy butts. All butts. I don’t discriminate!” Nishinoya replies jauntily.</p><p>The divine intervention of Sugawara Koshi interrupts this dangerous flow of conversation. “Nishinoya! Right foot! Green!” He bellows.</p><p>“Aw, too bad. I’ll miss you!” Nishinoya tells Yamaguchi’s behind as he steps over his torso, and he can practically feel the gravitational pull generated from Tsukishima’s eyes rolling. Nishinoya pivots his body so they are now side-to-side, and as their faces line up again, he winks at him. Like an asshole. Like he knows something Yamaguchi doesn’t. He just gapes at him, unable to process his reasoning.</p><p>“Hinata! Right hand, yellow!” Sugawara commands.</p><p>Now, with an open field of view of the mat, Yamaguchi watches Hinata struggle to find a successful path to a yellow circle. Kageyama is currently on all fours with his abdomen facing upwards in a contorted crab-like pose. There’s a free yellow circle either through Nishinoya’s legs, or just behind Kageyama’s head – both just too far for a successful reach.</p><p>Ignoring Kageyama’s protests of “Hinata, moron! Don’t even think about it, there’s no way you’ll make it – ”, Hinata lunges forward, reaching for the circle behind Kageyama’s head, loses his footing, and promptly falls flat on top of him. Their torsos make a definitive <em>whump </em>as they hit the floor together, Hinata now laid out flat on top of Kageyama’s chest, their legs tangled together, sweaty faces inches apart. Yamaguchi watches with wide eyes as Kageyama’s face contorts into a similar version of what he saw last week when he caught him staring at Hinata, but this time it is overlaid by something that he can only recognize as anger.</p><p>Hinata’s cheeks are also lit up pink, but for entirely different reasons than Kageyama’s. He giggles, still very plastered, “whoops, heh, sorry Kageya – ” but is cut off by Kageyama grabbing his shoulders and thrusting his smaller body off of his own with far more force than necessary. Hinata goes flying, and with the alcohol in his system constricting his typically sharp reflexes, hits the opposite wall with a hideous <em>crack</em>, then crumples.</p><p>Bodies rush to Hinata’s side, who’s somehow already jumped back up on wobbly feet and is rubbing the back of his head in a daze. Other than Sugawara’s soft ramble of concerned questioning, the room has fallen into a heavy silence. Kageyama is frozen, sitting upright on the mat, mouth ajar, eyes wide and fixed on the aftermath of his outburst.</p><p>The last person expected to break the silence does so.</p><p>“As referee, that’s what I call 'game'”. Tsukishima states calmly. He scans the room, shooting disapproving looks at anyone still spectating the rather uncomfortable scene. “As you were.” He says resolutely. </p><p>Nishinoya continues where he left off. “Hah, should have expected nothing less, letting you two be partners!” He jokes, effectively lightening the weight of the room by a few ounces.</p><p>The evening eventually falls back into pleasantry, but even after Kageyama awkwardly makes amends with Hinata, who was entirely unbothered by Kageyama tossing him like a rag doll, given, to him, it was no different than any other time this sort of thing has happened, something about the whole Twister debacle sticks with Yamaguchi.  </p><p>Finally finding his place on the couch beside Tsukishima, leans into him and whispers in his ear, “want to leave?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. calm or the storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They break into a run together and he takes a mental image of Tsukishima racing down the slick sidewalk beside him, all long limbs and wet blonde curls. It’s quite a rare and goofy sight, watching Tsukishima do anything in haste, and he feels laughter bubbling up and out of his chest again. Between the rumbles of thunder and the slap of sneakers on wet pavement, he almost misses the sound of Tsukishima’s boyish laughter blending with his own.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ready? Grab my hand and let’s dive into Yamaguchi’s overactive (and very horny) brain! </p><p>Upped the rating to M, for no other reason than Yamaguchi’s horny thoughts becoming a tad more… descriptive. </p><p>Title is from the song Bugbear by Chloe Moriondo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yamaguchi is well-aware he typically exhibits a delayed reaction to things.</p><p>Fear and anger are emotions he suspects he doesn’t handle correctly anymore, not after the years of bullying and isolation he experienced during his youth. They take hold of his insides and stagnate in his gut like the murky water of a bog.</p><p>Unlike certain other people he knows, anger rarely finds its way out of his body. So witnessing it appear on Kageyama’s face, seeded from the fear of how he feels for Hinata, then immediately explode out of him, fascinated Yamaguchi. It makes him think about all the times he could have snapped.</p><p>He can count on one hand the number of times he’s experienced that sort of release in his life; unsurprisingly, the most recent outburst stimulated by Tsukishima at last summer’s training camp. He supposes that marks the event that got the ball of their relationship rolling in the direction he’s wanted it to for so long, and wonders if he was the type of person to immediately act on his emotions how his life would be different. Perhaps he and Tsukishima would have gotten together a long time ago. Although, he isn’t even sure that’s what he wants right now.</p><p>He’s currently basking in the achingly, maddeningly, slow progression of their strange relationship. It drives him insane in the best of ways.</p><p>He thinks of the way Tsukishima attempted to remove his coat for him that night: a comfortable, tender act that directly betrayed the notion that Tsukishima is an uncaring, inattentive person. How his half-lidded eyes looked down on him, nose and lips inches from his when Yamaguchi had leaned in and asked if he wanted to head home. “<em>Yeah.</em>”</p><p>“You’re quiet.” Tsukishima notices. It’s too late for buses to be running on a regular schedule so they’ve opted for the typically too-far walk home. Not that Yamaguchi minds the extra time he gets to spend alone with Tsukishima.</p><p>“Oh, heh, yeah. Sorry Tsukki.” Yamaguchi says lightly. “You know, just in here.” He taps twice at his temple with his pointer finger.</p><p>“Well, get out of there. It’s lonely out here.” He jokes, gesturing to the cool night air.</p><p>There’s that strange sort of calm that exists before a thunderstorm surrounding them; air stagnant and sharp and buzzing with anticipation. He isn’t sure if this atmosphere was generated by whatever has been going on between the two of them or actual meteorological phenomena.  </p><p>Yamaguchi stretches his hand out in front of him and waves it around a few times, trying to feel out the electricity. “I think it’s going to storm.” He observes.</p><p>“Better not.” Tsukishima grumbles; he’d never be caught dead in the rain without an umbrella.  </p><p><em>He’s always been a bit of a priss,</em> Yamaguchi thinks fondly.</p><p>Even when they were kids he’d never like to get his hands dirty or take part in anything that’d result in mess or discomfort. If they’d get caught in the rain during their walks home from elementary school Yamaguchi used to love to let it wash over him. He felt like the rain was scrubbing the anxieties he used to be ridden with from under his skin. It was cliché, he knew, but it was freeing. Tsukishima would stand alone under his umbrella, watching him with suspicious eyes, not having a clue why he’d want to get all soggy.</p><p>As if on cue, a single, fat rain droplet splashes the tip of his nose. Then another on his cheek. He holds his hands out to feel the light splattering of rain against his palms and turns to look at Tsukishima, whose actions are mirroring his own. He slowly turns his head to meet Yamaguchi’s eyes and the absolute horror in Tsukishima’s makes him snort with laughter.</p><p>Tsukishima looks like he wants to tell him to shut up, and Yamaguchi very much wants him to, but instead he turns on his heel and briskly walks the opposite direction from home.<br/><br/>“Wha- where are you going?!”</p><p>“It’s about to piss-pour rain. There.” Tsukishima states, attempting to keep his tone even but Yamaguchi can sense the rising panic, and he points to the bus shelter at the end of the block.</p><p>He has to cover his mouth to conceal his laughter. “You’re just going to go stand in that bus shelter?” He asks dubiously, quickening his pace to return to his side. Tsukishima is using his few extra inches to his advantage, his long strides requiring Yamaguchi to lightly jog to keep up.  </p><p>“Any better ideas genius?” He throws back at him. He can tell Tsukishima is trying his best to feign irritation, he’s well aware his panicked escape to a bus shelter in the dead of night to avoid a few drops of rain is far too ridiculous to be taken with a serious tone.</p><p>Before Yamaguchi has the chance to generate a witty response, the sky opens up with a crash of thunder and drops a torrential downpour on them. He shrieks, looking up at the angry clouds swirling in the deep purple night sky and lets out a hoot. <em>Hah, too bad Tsukki! Get rained on you little princess! </em></p><p>Yamaguchi’s glee is short-lived; this isn’t the warm summer rain he’d like to skip around in as a child, it’s early spring and the ice-cold drops sting upon impact. They break into a run together and he takes a mental image of Tsukishima racing down the slick sidewalk beside him, all long limbs and wet blonde curls. It’s quite a rare and goofy sight, watching Tsukishima do anything in haste, and he feels laughter bubbling up and out of his chest again. Between the rumbles of thunder and the slap of sneakers on wet pavement, he almost misses the sound of Tsukishima’s boyish laughter blending with his own.</p><p>In the refuge of the empty bus shelter, Yamaguchi leans his back against the wall, chest heaving as his giggles fade and they catch their breath.</p><p>It’s quiet except for the sheets of rain drumming against the clear plastic walls of the shelter. He feels Tsukishima’s eyes on him and looks up to meet fogged glasses splattered with raindrops. Sometimes it feels like they’re in their own world, but now, with the monotonous pattering of raindrops and misty breath surrounding them, the rest of the world really does seem to physically fade out of view. Since Tsukishima’s mouth is typically held in a flat line, Yamaguchi has learned to read his eyes for expression, so the foggy lenses are somewhat of an issue right now. Tsukishima also appears displeased with the state of his glasses, so he pulls them off and starts wiping them clean with the fabric of his hoodie.</p><p>Yamaguchi prides himself on his familiarity with Tsukishima’s glasses-less face. It feels so intimate, so vulnerable, as that part of him is stripped away and his gaze becomes unfocused.</p><p>His brows furrow and his eyes flick downwards to inspect the lenses for smudges and Yamaguchi is transfixed by the sight. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s pulling his cellphone out of his pocket and capturing the moment with his phone camera.</p><p>He admires the photo shamelessly. Tsukishima’s wet curls are stuck to his forehead and droplets of rain sit on his fine blonde eyelashes, cast downwards, framing clouded amber eyes as they struggle to scrutinize the clarity of his lenses.</p><p>“What are you doing.” Tsukishima’s curt voice makes him startle. His black frames, returned to their home on his face, allow his eyes to revert to their sharpened state, and they stare right through him.</p><p>“You’re all wet” Yamaguchi explains stupidly, hand moving frantically to shove his phone back in his pocket. <em>Smooth moves</em>, his brain tells him.</p><p>Unsatisfied with this explanation, and Yamaguchi can’t really blame him, Tsukishima grabs his wrist and snatches his phone from his hand before he succeeds in pocketing it. He inspects the photo and the scowl on his mouth intensifies. Those golden eyes betray him though, as they soften just so. “I hate this.” He puts plainly.</p><p>“I don’t! Please don’t delete it!” He hops up to his tiptoes to snatch his phone back, but Tsukishima places a firm palm on his shoulder to push him back down. Yamaguchi’s eyes go wide at the blunt action and he stares up at Tsukishima incredulously, whose scowl quickly turns into a devious smirk. He leaves his hand steady on his shoulder and Yamaguchi can sense an idea forming behind his eyes.</p><p>“You are also all wet.” He says simply. “Your face is soaked.”</p><p>Yamaguchi’s entire body is a heartbeat as Tsukishima’s hand moves steadily from his shoulder and up the side of his neck. His long fingers cup his jawline and his thumb lightly traces from the junction between his earlobe and neck to the tip of his chin, then up again to rest its pad against his wet lower lip. He holds it there for a moment, before he slowly drags it down, parting his lips, then allows it to pop back up into place. Yamaguchi tries his best to prevent his eyelids from fluttering at his touch, but fails, which only seems to further please Tsukishima. “You had a raindrop.” He says nonchalantly, as if that explains his actions. <em>What the actual fuck, Tsukki. You are going to kill me. Rest in horny peace, self. </em></p><p>Tsukishima flicks the camera of his phone open with his other hand, thumb still resting lightly on his chin. His gaze moves to the phone screen and Yamaguchi shivers, realizing he’s taking a picture of him, completely smitten in this compromising position. The fact that this boy flusters while trying to help Yamaguchi out of his coat but can stand strong on his feet while photographing him with his fingers practically in his mouth makes Yamaguchi want to stomp his feet.  </p><p>Tsukishima blinks twice at the photo, appearing satisfied. He nods once and removes his hand from his face. Yamaguchi pouts at the loss of contact. He offers his phone back to him and practically whispers, “send that to me, kay?” Yamaguchi’s stomach goes hot at his words and he isn’t sure what to do with himself for a moment. Shaky hands accept his phone, careful not to touch Tsukishima’s fingers because he’s convinced they’ll surely burn him if he does, and pockets it, not breaking eye contact.</p><p>Tsukishima begins to step backward to increase the space between them, but Yamaguchi’s hand instinctively shoots out to grab the collar of his hoodie to prevent this. He’s not quite ready to let him get away so easily after pulling that stunt. He quickly realizes he has no further plans once he’s captured Tsukishima in his grasp, but that doesn’t stop him from holding him there.</p><p>Both of Tsukishima’s eyebrows are raised now and his downward gaze studies him skeptically. Yamaguchi ponders the right words to say.</p><p>
  <em>This is great and all. Super-duper hot. I’m horny like, all the time because of whatever we’ve had going on for the past couple months. Seriously Tsukki, I don’t remember the last time I was able to fall asleep at night without humping my pillow. But I’m also fucking in love with you, you know that right? And I’m pretty sure you love me too? So can you just suck on my face, please?! </em>
</p><p>Instead, he opts for “Tsukishima, you –”</p><p>“Woah. Sometimes I forget you know my full name.” He interrupts purposely.</p><p>Yamaguchi releases his hoodie from his grasp to smack his own forehead with his palm, wishing it was Tsukishima’s. “You –” he starts again, but decides to cut himself off. <em>You infuriating, confusing, stupid, perfect boy.   </em></p><p>Staring into those piercing gold eyes that seem to pick him apart from the inside, he decides there <em>will</em> be a day where he’ll be able to say all of his depraved thoughts aloud to Tsukishima; a day where he’ll be able to sit on top of him and instruct him on exactly what he wants done to his body by those rude fingers of his, but, that day isn’t today. Definitely one day, but not today.</p><p>As much as he’d like to say that to him, he knows Tsukishima can’t handle sentimentality. At the same time, he knows just how intensely Tsukishima experiences emotion. Similar to how Yamaguchi himself struggles to process emotions like anger and fear, Tsukishima seems to short-circuit and revert to satire when trying to process love. He knows that despite his cool demeanour, deep down, he sees himself as rotten because of it. This duality makes him, in Yamaguchi’s opinion, the most perfectly fascinating person he’s ever met, and likely will ever meet. So, he can forgive him for being confusing. He loves him for it. Maybe they really are just a pair of masochists. A match made in heaven. That, or a couple of teenaged shit heads. He supposes he’s fine with either, so, he drops it.</p><p>“I was going to say, <em>Tsukki</em>, you should check bus times.”</p><p>Tsukishima smiles, a genuine one that presents in his eyes even more than his mouth.</p><p>“Will do, <em>Yamaguchi</em>.”</p><p>Yamaguchi is probably too young to be analyzing their emotional psyche the way that he constantly finds himself doing, but if the lyrics of the punk music he hears blaring from Tsukishima’s headphones have told him anything, this is what being a teenager is for, right?</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Yo, Yamaguchi! Send me some of those nasty jump floats, will ya?” Nishinoya quips one day after practice.</p><p>It’s been a couple weeks since the new crop of first years had joined the team, and the routine of the semester was slowly settling in. With classes ramping up, volleyball club going late while the first years got adjusted, and extra serving practice with Shimada, Yamaguchi hadn’t spent much time planning his next move in the Tsukishima situation. Not that any of this was planned in the slightest, he just likes to convince himself that he has <em>some</em> control over these things, typically achieved by running through thousands of potential scenarios in his head like some sort of lovesick supercomputer.</p><p>Yamaguchi hasn’t been able to come up with a feasible next course of action though, his train of thought keep getting stuck on that night in the bus shelter. Tsukishima’s thumb on his lower lip. The way Tsukishima’s eyes scanned over him while he captured the moment on his phone camera. His rough whisper of <em>‘send that to me’</em> – which he did while he was lying in bed later that night, hand in his pants and staring at that wet, glasses-less photo of Tsukishima – only to receive a simple ‘thank you’ text the following morning.</p><p>He bounces the volleyball with more aggression than usual for him before tossing it in the air. He can tell by the way his palm smacks against the ball it’s going to be an easy receive, proven by Nishinoya’s lazy bump back.</p><p>“Aw, come on dude, you can do better than that!” Nishinoya yells back at him from the other side of the net. “Distracted?” He tacks on at the end, followed by a quick wink.</p><p>Yamaguchi peers around. Kageyama and Hinata are the only two left in the gym. Kageyama seems to be trying to take Hinata’s arms off with his jump serve, and Hinata seems to be thoroughly enjoying it. He puts a finger up to his lips in a ‘shush’ motion, causing Nishinoya to smile wider. In true Nishinoya fashion, he drop kicks the ball across the gym, then whips back to face Yamaguchi again, “let’s take a break.”</p><p>Nishinoya saunters over and tosses him a water bottle. “So, did it work?” He asks casually.</p><p>“Did what work?” Yamaguchi feigns ignorance.</p><p>“Come on, couple weekends back, at Tanaka’s. You know…” He counters, wiggling his butt in Yamaguchi’s direction. <em>Yep, he officially scares me</em>, his internal voice concludes.</p><p>He stifles a giggle. “Nope, don’t know what you’re on about.” He lies, hand over his mouth to conceal his amusement.</p><p>Nishinoya is unfazed. He scrutinizes a hangnail on his middle finger. “If you don’t give me a real answer, I’m just going to ramp it up. I haven’t even entered Phase 2 yet.” He replies coolly.</p><p>Yamaguchi decides it’s in his best interest to assume he isn’t bluffing, even though he likely is. He sighs loudly before replying, so Nishinoya gets the message. “Kind of. Not really. But, there isn’t anything you can do about that. I appreciate the effort though” That last part was a white lie and he's sure Nishinoya knows it based on the way he claps his back with an open palm in response.</p><p>“Ahh, what makes you say that?”<br/><br/>“Tsukki is… different.” He puts simply.</p><p>“You can say that again”.</p><p>They grin at each other for a moment before Yamaguchi’s curiosity gets the better of him.</p><p>“Why are you even trying to, uh, help us?” He asks because he genuinely wants to know.</p><p>Nishinoya is quick to respond. “It’s simple really – I like you guys. We give each other shit, but I actually really like Tsukishima.” He says with the type of smile that tells Yamaguchi he’s being genuine too. <em>How about that. </em></p><p>He puffs out his chest before continuing. “Plus, part of my job as the team’s super-libero is being observant on the court – I can’t exactly turn it off. You really think I wouldn’t notice those longing stares you’re always giving each other when you think no one’s looking?” He says, batting his eyelashes, making pouty lips and clasping his hands together under his chin.  </p><p>Nishinoya continues unprompted. “To be honest, I kind of thought you guys were already dating when you joined the club... but those looks told me otherwise. After a year or so I decided to step in!” He says jauntily, like it’s really the most obvious thing in the world. Yamaguchi eyes the gym door, the urge to escape suddenly passing through him. </p><p>He decides verbally diffusing the situation is a better option than fleeing. “Look, like I said, the effort is <em>super</em> appreciated, but it’s not going to change anything.” He says, ensuring to inflict sarcasm on key words. He continues, turning to face Nishinoya so he gets the message. “And I’d prefer Tsukki not know we talked about this, he’s, um... a private guy.”</p><p>Nishinoya nods in understanding. “Yeah yeah, mum’s the word.” He replies, zipping up his lips with his fingers.</p><p>Yamaguchi eyes him skeptically. Nishinoya pretends to lock his mouth up, then hucks the invisible key across the gym. He smiles at him, lips still in a tight line, and waggles his eyebrows as if to say <em>'trust me?'. </em>He concedes, shoving Nishinoya's shoulder lightly. "Thanks". </p><p>With Yamaguchi’s mood slightly improved, he’s feeling a bit coy. He leans in closer to ensure only Nishinoya’s ears are privy. “Also, don’t you think there are other people on this team that need more help than Tsukki and I?”</p><p>Their gaze falls on Hinata chasing Kageyama with a volleyball, shrieking “Take it! Take it!”</p><p>Nishinoya guffaws loudly, waving his hands in front of him in innocence. “No way, man. They have their own thing goin’ on.” </p><p>Yamaguchi supposes this is true, as he watches them race around the gym throwing stupid insults back and forth. He finds himself wondering if they’re doing something right by keeping their relationship platonic. This thought is quickly replaced by a mental image of a rain-soaked Tsukishima cupping his face with his steady, slender fingers. He shivers. </p><p>Nope, they could never manage to stay platonic.</p><p>He realizes there's still one niggling thought still bothering him. "Say, Nishinoya, how'd you know I'd be good at Twister?" </p><p>Nishinoya'a face splits into a shit-eating grin. "I told you, I'm an observant guy!" He drops down, bending in half to press his palms to the gym floor. "Most of the taller dudes on this team can't stretch worth shit - have you seen Asahi try to touch his toes? Fuckin' comedy." He continues, unfolding himself and stretching his arms over his head.  "You've never seemed to have an issue during warm-ups." He states simply. </p><p>Yamaguchi can feel his ears going warm at the thought of being observed. "You could be a PI, you know that." He says, a slight frown on his lips.  </p><p>"Hah, probably! Nothing to be embarrassed about though man, Tsukishima is only going to benefit that flexibility of yours!" He says with a wink. That fucking wink. </p><p>That statement makes all sorts of perverted images fly through Yamaguchi's brain. He smiles. He sincerely hopes that's true.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>come yell about tsukkiyama w me on twitter: @razmirato</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. flip the switch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>That was the odd thing about being in love with your best friend: the tender feeling of already being woven into their family, constantly juxtaposed beside the gnawing reminder it wasn’t in the way you wanted.  </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, it's been way longer than intended. This chapter kept growing and growing as I wrote it, and it kind of got away from me for a while there. Please forgive me :*</p><p>Just a warning, there's /some/ level of description of sexual acts in this chapter, so if you're uncomfortable with that sort of thing, you can stop reading at 'He inventories their points of contact' and start again at 'He also knows, as much as Tsukishima likes to tease'. It isn't very explicit but I just wanted to give a warning!</p><p>The title of this chapter is in reference to the lyrics of Valentine by COIN (a very much tsukkiyama mutual pining song if you ask me).</p><p>Thank you for reading!! You are all lovely. </p><p>- raz</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tsukishima was uncharacteristically jittery. He was unable to stop pacing around the team’s shared lodging long after everyone else had hit the showers and were slowly passing out, exhausted bodies littering the floor of the room. He paced around them.</p><p>They’d made it to the Spring Tournament for the second year in a row, faced Inarizaki yet again, and lost. It wasn’t surprising, really, or even all that devastating - the match had been one of their best. Yamaguchi knew that Tsukishima was well-aware of this, but he also knew he was his own worst critic in an often self-destructive way.</p><p>Ennoshita had already tried intervening, but he was currently off wrangling a couple of the more excitable first years that had wandered off, and Nishinoya and Tanaka were maintaining consciousness despite their drooping lids for the sole reason of ensuring Yachi returned from the baths unscathed. </p><p>Yamaguchi was perched on the windowsill, one eye keeping tabs on Tsukishima, the other observing Hinata and Kageyama lazily bump a volleyball back and forth in the motel’s courtyard despite the grueling game they all just finished playing. He was tempted to crack the window and holler at them to just <em> sit down </em> for once, for the <em> love of God </em> , where are you guys acquiring that energy from? <em> Who </em> or <em> what </em> are you tapping like a well for all that energy? </p><p>He decides to keep his comments to himself. It was quite nice watching a calm interaction between the two of them anyway. Over the past year, it seemed Kageyama had either become better at concealing whatever he was feeling for Hinata, or, the less likely option, he’d actually done something about it and the pair was just better at keeping secrets than one would expect.</p><p>Although the most likely option was that Yamaguchi was too wrapped up in the heat of whatever the hell was going on with him and Tsukishima to accurately assess their situation.</p><p>There’d been more than one instance this year where, for a fleeting moment, he seriously considered breaking through the unspoken barrier stubbornly standing between them, and times he could tell Tsukishima desperately wanted to as well.</p><p>Times like that one unusually warm day in May when they sweat through their uniform shirts on their walk home from school and hosed each other down in Tsukishima’s backyard to cool off. Tsukishima was having a little too much fun shooting Yamaguchi with ice-cold hose water from across the yard, so he’d tackled him to the ground, which ended up in a shameless, wet wrestling match right there in the grass. Tsukishima’s height and weight advantage resulted in Yamaguchi’s body pinned below his, stomach pressed against the ground, long legs straddling his hips. Initially he had thought he was at a disadvantage until he realized just how much power he held. Wiggling his butt under the guise of freeing himself- but in reality a test of Tsukishima's self-control- proved it wasn’t as strong as he liked to act. One simple shift of his hips between his Tsukishima’s legs, ass brushing against something Yamaguchi could only assume was his hard-on concealed by the fabric of his uniform pants, had Tsukishima gasping and tapping out, bounding off Yamaguchi like he was on fire.</p><p>The summer was painfully long and stifling hot. </p><p>Or, as the weather grew cool again, the countless nights of <em> ‘can’t sleep, you up?’ </em> texts and exchanged photos of their sleepy faces bathed in warm lamplight, soft around the edges with messy pillow hair and half lidded eyes. These would eventually give rise to phone calls where husky voices murmured confessions hidden within witty banter, an elaborate ruse, a weak cover of the fact that they just wanted the sound of each other’s breaths to be the last thing they heard each night before drifting to sleep.</p><p>Snapping back to reality, he realizes he’s been so transfixed on the careful strides of Tsukishima’s long legs maneuvering around his team member’s sleeping forms that he barely registers Nishinoya snapping his fingers in front of his nose. Before Yamaguchi could adjust to the speed of reality, Nishinoya grins, flashes him a quick thumbs up and bellows, “God damn it Tsukishima if you don’t get your ass to the showers in the next five minutes I’m going to bathe you myself! You stink, Smellyshima!”</p><p>Tsukishima barely acknowledges the jeer. He sidesteps a few more sleeping bodies, snatches a towel from his bag, and snaps, “Well, you coming? My back isn’t going to wash itself”, on his way out the door. </p><p>“Yes darling, give me a minute!” Nishinoya sing-songs, pleased his joke landed.</p><p>Yamaguchi smirks, proud of Nishinoya’s wit. “Good tactic, Tsukki does respond to snark above all else,” he notes.</p><p>Nishinoya turns on his heel to face Yamaguchi and pokes him hard in the chest. “Well, what are you waiting for? He’s expecting company!”</p><p>“Wha- no, I already showered and…” he trails off, already out of reasons. <em> Weak! You are weak! You know you want to suds up that huge back of his! Don’t pretend that you don’t want an excuse to stare at those skinny boy abs! </em> His brain babbles. </p><p>“It’s been what, a <em> year </em> , and I <em> know </em> you haven’t bedded that beanpole yet. You’re disappointing me, honestly,” Nishinoya sighs, shaking his head and clicking his tongue.</p><p>“P-please don’t put it like that.” Yamaguchi stammers. </p><p>“C’mon Mr. Future Captain, go on! Take care of your subordinates!” Nishinoya continues, unrelenting.</p><p>“That’s not for sure yet, relax, will you?” </p><p>The thought of being named the next captain isn’t something he can really process right now.</p><p>“Not until you go help your lanky ass boyfriend relax!” Nishinoya croons, turning his back to Yamaguchi and wrapping his arms around himself, rubbing them up and down his own back and making kissy noises.</p><p>“Nishinoya! No making out in shared quarters, even if it’s with yourself!” Ennoshita chides, returning to the sleeping quarters with the escapee first years in tow.</p><p>Yamaguchi decides it’s in everyone’s best interest to do as the unhinged libero says, so he grabs his still-damp towel and makes his way out. Not that he’d admit this to his face or anything, but he’s kind of grateful for Nishinoya’s pushiness; it made it seem like bounding down the hallway to meet Tsukishima alone in the boys’ baths appear as something he hadn’t already thought of numerous times by himself.</p><p>When he arrives in the steamy showers Tsukishima is partway through undressing and doesn’t seem to notice his presence. His pale, sweaty back is starting to do things to Yamaguchi’s mind, so he announces himself.</p><p>“Tsukki- hey- mind if I join?”</p><p>Tsukishima startles, whips around, and he’s met with his damp, glasses-free face and bleary amber eyes.</p><p>“Shit Yamaguchi, don’t sneak up on me like that”, he mutters.</p><p>He’s running his shirt over in his hands, balling up the fabric, letting it go loose, then repeating the action over and over again. </p><p>Yamaguchi takes a timid step forward. “Sorry, wasn’t trying to scare you, Tsukki!”</p><p>Tsukishima narrows his eyes. “You know I can’t hear as well when I’m not wearing my glasses.”</p><p>“So you’ve said before. I don’t really see the connection though” he teases, giggling awkwardly.</p><p>Tsukishima lets out a shaky exhale. “Yeah… me neither.”</p><p>Tsukishima doesn’t ask why he’s there if he’s already bathed, and Yamaguchi doesn’t ask if he’s okay- they both already know the answers. And he has an idea of how to calm Tsukishima’s nerves. Wordlessly, he steps closer, air heavy and humid between them, stills Tsukishima’s fidgety hands with his own and leads him to sit on a bench at the washing station along the wall.</p><p>They avert their eyes from each other and quietly finish undressing.</p><p>Yamaguchi steps behind him, showerhead in hand, and starts running warm water through his messy blond curls and down his back. He uses his other hand to carefully tip Tsukishima’s forehead back to prevent water from getting into his eyes, then continues to move his hand along his scalp, softly running his fingers through his hair and Tsukishima sighs, relaxing into his touch.</p><p>Yamaguchi revels in the way the taut sinews of his neck slowly loosen, as the pent up anxieties buzzing through his back muscles slow their vibrations and still by the work of his hands. </p><p>They’d never done anything like this before, with each other or anyone else, but the languid movement of Yamaguchi’s fingers in his hair, neck, then down his back to pull the tension built up during the match out of his wound-up body felt as natural as breathing. With the nebular state of their relationship, he was expecting a certain level of awkwardness to be present when only thin towels separate their bare skin, when his hands are ghosting down every plane of Tsukishima’s soapy torso, but it isn’t. It’s just nice. Really nice.</p><p>And even though he knows, objectively, he’d lick the droplets of water dripping down his neck if Tsukishima were to ask (he’d enjoy it too), his brain isn’t currently screaming at him to do so. He’s simply enjoying the feeling of his best friend melting under his fingers.</p><p>“Tsukki, listen-” Yamaguchi breathes, voice wavering.</p><p>Tsukishima’s eyes flutter open for a moment. “Ymmguchi- is’fine. M’fine” he slurs, blissed out.</p><p>He continues despite Tsukishima’s mumbled protests, his voice still a little shaky. “H-hey, I’m probably going to be named captain soon, so let me practice this sort of thing, ok?”</p><p>Tsukishima quiets. “Mmhm.”</p><p>Continuing his ministrations down his back, he starts. “You can’t be this hard on yourself. It’s not easy seeing you like that, you know?” His hands move up to tangle in his locks and he starts lathering in shampoo.</p><p>“Don’t make me say this again- you were amazing. You know other teams actually fear you right? And no, not just because of that stupid mean face you’re always wearing. You are a force, Tsukki." </p><p>He cups one hand over Tsukishima’s eyes to stop the shampoo from dripping in them, then starts rinsing it out, angling the showerhead so the soap runs down the back of his neck.</p><p>“Especially in that last set. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you…” He trails off, knowing this pep talk will surely bleed into something else if he continues that particular train of thought. </p><p>“So stop trying to hoard all the blame. It’s not only your fault we lost, or any of ours for that matter. The outcome doesn’t even matter. What matters is the way you played that game is something you should be proud of.” </p><p>He finishes rinsing and turns off the shower head. With both hands, he slicks Tsukishima’s clean, wet hair off his face, runs his hands down the sides of his neck and rests them lightly on his bony shoulders. He leans down and closes in on the side of his face, so his lips ghost the skin on the tip of his ear, “Okay?”</p><p>He knows he’s not really playing it fair with that move. He just wants to watch the effect he has on the typically cold and stoic boy, now soft and warm and wet under his hands.</p><p>He feels Tsukishima tremble at the feeling of his lips brushing his ear, but only for a moment. Then, he smirks, and moves his hands behind their bodies to grab Yamaguchi’s hips; his long arms allowing his palms to move up from the skin of his waist to the centre of his back, and he abruptly pulls him forward so Yamaguchi’s chest is pressed against the back of his head.</p><p>“So, is this how you plan to comfort <em> all </em> of our teammates when they’re down on themselves, hmm, Captain?” Tsukishima teases, squeezing Yamaguchi’s sides.</p><p>He stifles a yelp. <em> Looks like Tsukki is back. </em></p><p>“Would that be an issue?” He throws back at him, trying his best to control his voice crack. They stare intently into each other’s eyes in the steamy mirror, the only sound in the room the occasional drip of water onto the tiled floor.</p><p>“Yeah, it would be.” Tsukishima finally interrupts the heavy silence, dropping his hands from Yamaguchi’s sides. “Does that really surprise you?” He asks, turning to face him while standing up to his full height and adjusting the towel around his waist. Yamaguchi stares up at him, feeling a little wobbly on his feet all of a sudden.</p><p>Without his glasses, and with his hair slicked completely off his forehead, he looks naked, but somehow also intimidating, a stark contrast from how small he looked just a few minutes ago. Whoever said picturing your audience naked helps bring them down to size had clearly never stood below a dripping wet Tsukishima.</p><p><em> I did that </em> , Yamaguchi thinks, <em> I gave him back his confidence. </em></p><p>During times like this, for a moment, the feeling that their years-long flirtation was an elaborate joke that only the two of them were in on faded, and he found himself aching for him. But Tsukishima was so, so good at negating him, and if Yamaguchi didn’t enjoy that in itself so much, he probably would have lost it by now. There was something in how Tsukishima made the act of rejection feel so intimate, so personal, that he didn’t really mind it. </p><p>As expected, Tsukishima grins down at him for a moment, then turns around to gather his belongings before Yamaguchi could string together a response. On his way out, he stops and says, his back facing Yamaguchi, “Hey. Thanks for that, it was… nice.” He looks back at him for a brief moment before disappearing into the hallway, a pink blush atop his pale cheeks.</p><p>Yamaguchi grabs the showerhead and switches the dial to cold.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Ooh, I have a good one. Remember when we’d drive through the countryside when we were little kids, and Kei’d see those bales of hay all wrapped in white plastic around farmland? Remember what he’d say?” Akiteru gushes, pausing for dramatic effect. “He’d point and shout, ‘Look, giant marshmallow farms!’ He jumps out of his chair, points around clumsily to imitate an excitable child. “Haha! How cute is that?” </p><p>Akiteru leans across the table to pinch Tsukishima’s cheeks. Tsukishima looks like he’d rather be dead.</p><p>Today was his birthday. He typically hates the fanfare associated with the occasion, but Akiteru made the trip home from college this weekend, claiming he’d ‘never miss the day his little brother became a man’, though Yamaguchi is entirely unsure of that phrasing. Dirty thoughts aside, to him, eighteen seemed like quite an arbitrary number to suddenly become an adult man.</p><p>Regardless of Kei’s protests, they were all gathered around the Tsukishima family dinner table, hot pot bubbling pleasantly in the center, the smell of cooking seafood and warm spices surrounding them.</p><p>To Tsukishima’s utmost and absolute horror, his parents had pulled out an old photo album and were fawning over his childhood photos and swapping cutesy embarrassing stories as if Yamaguchi hadn’t heard them all hundreds of times before.  That was the odd thing about being in love with your best friend: the tender feeling of already being woven into their family, constantly juxtaposed beside the gnawing reminder it wasn’t in the way you wanted.  </p><p>Akiteru had arrived with the announcement of a surprise. He was finally gracing them with meeting the elusive girlfriend he’d claimed to have started dating months ago, who Tsukishima was entirely skeptical actually existed.</p><p>When he had first started visiting home from college, his parents would pester him for information about his love life, <em>“Aki, have you met anyone yet? If you have a girlfriend you have to tell us! We’re your family!”</em> <em>“Or boyfriend, or partner, of course! Whichever!”</em> Tsukishima’s parents were supportive in the overbearing and misled way parents often were, but it was nice by comparison; Yamaguchi’s mother was supportive of him in a quiet, stern way that made him wonder if it was reluctant acceptance rather than support.</p><p>A ring of the doorbell brings Yamaguchi out of musings.</p><p>“Did someone order a pizza?” Tsukishima deadpans. Yamaguchi kicks him from under the table, a foot in the shin to tell him to <em> be nice </em>.</p><p>Akiteru had already sprung to his feet and bounded to the front door, while Yamaguchi was absentmindedly trying to picture the type of person waiting at the doorstep. Akiteru was a handsome guy. Attractive enough that he’d convinced himself he had a crush on him as a kid, when the thought of having a crush on Kei had made him want to throw up. Crushing on his older brother seemed much more digestible at the time. He was nice, friendly, and other than the whole 'pathologically lying about being on the Karasuno starting lineup' thing in high school, generally, a stand-up guy. He’d probably attract a like soul. Yamaguchi pictures a slight, fair girl with long brown hair tied into a braid. Maybe she’s holding a basket of homemade bread. She definitely has kind eyes.</p><p>What Yamaguchi wasn’t expecting was a familiar voice shout, “What is up, Tsukishimas?!” from somewhere behind his head.</p><p>He knew that voice. How did he know that voice?</p><p>Tsukishima, sitting across from him at the dinner table and facing the doorway, has apparently seen a phantom.</p><p>“What’s with the face, Stretch? Surprised to see me outside a volleyball gym?” Saeko teases.  </p><p>Yamaguchi whips around. Saeko Tanaka is standing in the doorway of the Tsukishima’s dining room, Akiteru’s arm wrapped around her waist. Tsukishima’s brother is dating Saeko Tanaka.</p><p>Not exactly what he was expecting. It was way better than what he was expecting, actually. Yamaguchi almost rubs his hands together evilly, nearly giddy with the anticipation of how the rest of the evening would play out given this new development. </p><p>Truthfully, Yamaguchi really liked Saeko. They’d only spoken a few times here and there at volleyball matches, but she was one of those rare types of people that you could tell was genuinely interested in listening to what you had to say. She was a true extrovert, and Yamaguchi found this commendable. So, despite all her brazenness, she had politely introduced herself to Kei and Akiteru’s parents; she bowed respectfully, complimented their cooking, answered all their questions and asked about them as well. She’d even brought a small gift for Tsukishima’s birthday, a pair of free cinema passes, which Yamaguchi would undoubtedly benefit from too. Akiteru was beaming.</p><p>The proper side of Yamaguchi was enjoying the evening and its pleasantry, but another, more chaotic part of him couldn’t help but wonder when it would go wrong. Saeko, like her brother, could be quite the loose cannon, so he assumed it was only a matter of time before she directed that explosive energy to pushing Tsukishima’s buttons. Hyperactive people tended to gravitate to him. Or, maybe he gravitated to them. Yamaguchi wasn’t sure of the directionality of this.</p><p>“So, Saeko, have you introduced Aki to your parents yet?” Tsukishima’s mother asks softly.</p><p>They had just finished torturing Tsukishima by means of singing him happy birthday in front of the strawberry shortcake Yamaguchi brought over. Every year on his birthday, he bought Tsukishima his favourite grocery-store strawberry shortcake on his way home from school. It wasn't great, but it tasted like nostalgia. </p><p>“Not yet!” Saeko replies, smiling from ear to ear, “We’re actually staying over at their place tonight so Aki and I can make them breakfast tomorrow. Plus, Ryu has been dying to officially meet him!”</p><p>Tsukishima makes a small coughing noise. </p><p>“What, you got a problem with my little Ryu~?” Saeko chaffs, prodding Tsukishima playfully in the side, fully aware of how her younger brother’s personality crashes with Tsukishima’s.  </p><p>“No, not a problem per se.” Tsukishima replies dryly, picking at the half-eaten second slice of cake on his plate. </p><p>Saeko narrows her eyes at him and Yamaguchi can sense panic rising within Akiteru. They meet each other’s gaze for a brief moment to shoot each other a <em> Kei is acting up and we should probably intervene </em>look. They’d tag-teamed this sort of issue before in the past.</p><p>Before either of them have a chance to, Tsukishima pipes up again.</p><p>“So, if this –” he uses his middle and index fingers to point at Saeko and Akiteru, “- works out, you end up married and all that, who’s going to stop Tanaka from referring to me as his relative?” He asks, a challenge. </p><p>Akiteru chokes. He throws a desperate look in Yamaguchi's direction as Saeko claps him on the back. </p><p>“I mean, Tsukki, that'd technically be true, then.” Yamaguchi corrects, an attempt at damage control, carefully smiling between him and Saeko.</p><p>Tsukishima shoots him a <em> shut up Yamaguchi </em> look. He discreetly sticks out his tongue at him in response.</p><p>Saeko lets out a boisterous laugh. “Pump the brakes Stretch, I wouldn’t want you scaring Aki off! It’s only been a few months, jeez”. Akiteru laughs awkwardly, placing a hand on hers on the table, gently intertwining their fingers.  “Not everyone has been together as long as you two have, you know!” She continues casually, waving a hand in their general direction.</p><p>Akiteru chokes again. He really should stop trying to finish that slice of cake.</p><p>“What? Oh, they just look like a couple that have been together a long time! Hm, I guess they’re only in their third year of high school…” Saeko rambles, apparently oblivious to the horrified looks painting everyone's face, “Ah, my bad, how long has it actually been then?” She questions in earnest, only to be answered by dead silence. </p><p>Never in his life had Yamaguchi ever experienced a silence this loud. It would surely cause at least temporary deafness. He was going to lose his cool. He needed a pause point, like when he was serving, to reset. His eyes flit around the room and land on a framed photograph of the Tsukishima family hanging on the wall. He focuses on this.</p><p>They are a ridiculously attractive family, the Tsukishimas, it was unfair really. The photograph looked like one of those default stock photos that come inside picture frames, minus the tackiness and insincerity. Tsukishima's mother had passed her soft features and light auburn hair to Akiteru, whereas Kei's more angular and severe facial structure undoubtedly came from his father. Kei-kun, as Yamaguchi would have referred to him around the time this photo was taken, was wearing an oversized, knit wool sweater sporting a wonky green triceratops on the front, his glasses far too big for his head, flashing an eye-crinkling, dazzling smile at the camera. It's been some time since he'd seen a smile that bright on Tsukishima's face. Yamaguchi thinks the last time was probably after their first successful serve-and-block during the Nekoma match at Nationals nearly two years ago now, when he'd crossed the court with the sole mission of capturing Yamaguchi's palms against his own. They never addressed the way their fingers found their way around each other’s, tangling together briefly, as they beamed at each other in the heat of the moment, smack dab in the middle of the court. </p><p>"Oh Saeko, no, bless your soul but you couldn't be more wrong!" Tsukishima's mother finally interrupts the silence, clearly biting back a laugh. "Tadashi is Kei's oldest and best friend, that's all!" She corrects, waving her hands in front of her face, as if to say, <em> what an absolutely laughable concept – these two platonic best friends who’ve never texted half-nude photos, held each other’s bare skin, swapped clothes, washed each other’s hair, wrested in the grass – dating? Preposterous. </em></p><p>Yamaguchi finally tears his eyes from his pause point and directs his gaze to Tsukishima, who seemingly reads his mind, as he does the same.</p><p>He doesn't look upset. He has that look in his eyes he gets when he's minutely focused on a task in front of him. Yamaguchi typically sees this look on the court; it's a cold, calculating look, but it means he's thinking. Yamaguchi wonders what it's doing here, at the dinner table, in potentially the most awkward situation of his life.</p><p>Saeko apologizes profusely, Yamaguchi reassures her that it was an honest mistake, Akiteru continues to alternate between half-chokes and awkward laughs, and Tsukishima remains silent for the rest of the evening.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Yamaguchi throws his controller down, having just kicked Tsukishima’s ass in Smash Bros for the sixth time in a row. Granted, he’s much better than him at the game, probably due to the hours he spent honing his skills alone in his bedroom as a child prior to meeting his best friend, but by this point, Tsukishima’s typically able to secure at least one win.</p><p>He’d been exceptionally unreactive, even for him, ever since everyone retired from the dinner table a couple hours ago, Tsukishima’s parents claiming something about picking up a cousin at a Tokyo airport early the next morning, but Yamaguchi sensed they just wanted to end the evening before another fiasco ensued.</p><p>They’re sitting cross-legged on Tsukishima’s bedroom floor on the mattress pad that he’s kept rolled up in his closet since they were very young, specifically for when Yamaguchi stays the night. It’s yellowed, worn down in the centre and has a head-shaped indent at one end, but Yamaguchi’s had some of his best sleeps on this thing. Maybe that has less to do with the mattress itself and more to do with the fact that the even rise and fall of Tsukishima’s chest is mere feet away on the nights he sleeps on it, but he tries to not make a mechanistic link here. </p><p>Yamaguchi feels oddly attached to this raggedy mattress. It’s seen so much of him.</p><p>He cried into it that night in ninth grade when he realized he loved Tsukishima. He’d come over after missing afternoon classes because of a doctor’s appointment and Tsukishima had handed him a stack of notes he made on the lessons he missed. The margins were scribbled with ramblings about his day, insults at the expense of their teacher, and crude doodles to make him laugh. He clutched the papers in trembling hands that night after Tsukishima had fallen asleep, lying under the covers and cursing the way his heart swelled when he read those messages made just for him.</p><p>He had his first wet dream on it. He still remembers the hazy images of large, protective hands on his body, slender fingers wrapping around him, connecting their bodies, fisting in the sheets and pulling him taught - all belonging to Tsukishima - prior to waking up in sticky sheets and immense shame. He frantically threw them into the wash before the light of morning and prayed no one caught him, but now, he’s sure Tsukishima knew. He’s always had an uncanny way of reading him. </p><p>He and Tsukishima tried to ride it down the staircase when they were children, resulting in matching broken wrists (turns out you need a fully-realized mattress for mattress surfing). Monster movie marathons, Wii Sports tournaments, last-minute calculus cram sessions – all on this worn-out mattress topper on the floor of Tsukishima’s bedroom. </p><p>He pauses the game. “Tsukki, as much as I like whooping your ass, it’s no fun if you aren’t at least trying to win” he complains, leaning back onto his elbows.</p><p>Tsukishima stares straight ahead at the television screen. Yamaguchi prods him in the ribs.</p><p>“Hey. Earth to Tsukki.”</p><p>“Hey.” Tsukishima eventually replies, slowly turning his body towards him but avoiding eye contact.</p><p>Yamaguchi abruptly realizes his patience is running thin. “How about you just tell me what’s going on in that head of yours already.” He says, the impatience evident despite his careful tone.</p><p>He watches Tsukishima’s fingers, usually deft and steady, shake as they move to poke his elbow.</p><p>“I didn’t like it.” He states. His index finger remains pressed against the skin of Yamaguchi’s elbow. </p><p>Yamaguchi cocks his head to the side. “Like what?”</p><p>Tsukishima inhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand. He’s blushing. And it looks really fucking good on him, in dim light of the bedroom, illuminated only by the soft blue light of the television screen.</p><p>Dust motes dance in the space between them as he waits for Tsukishima to elaborate.</p><p>“I didn’t like the way my mom dismissed the, uh, possibility of… us.” He glances up at Yamaguchi at that last word before averting his gaze again.</p><p>Yamaguchi sharply lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.</p><p>“Tsukki…um… she didn’t mean anything by it. Everyone was just surprised. And probably trying to save us embarrassment.” He tries. </p><p>“I know. You don’t have to explain.” Tsukishima snaps quietly. </p><p>That thing was happening again; where he could see himself from a birds eye view, an observer of his own actions. And the boy he’s observing is far more bold than he is.</p><p>He watches his body turn to face Tsukishima’s. His hand finds its way to his forearm, his fingers linger on his skin.</p><p>“Are you getting tired of this?” He asks.</p><p>Tsukishima blinks at him as if he doesn’t know what he means. He does. </p><p>Yamaguchi tries again. “Do you want to kiss me?”</p><p>This time, Tsukishima doesn’t feed him a line. “Yes.”</p><p>His breath hitches. “Are you going to?”</p><p>With honesty in his eyes he breathes, “I can’t.” </p><p>Yamaguchi ghosts his fingers down the skin of his arm to the top of his hand and he intertwines their fingers, pressing his palm into the mattress. </p><p>“Can I?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>He almost wasn’t expecting that answer. The jig is up, it’s real. No phone screen to hide behind, no bus to wait for, no hallway to disappear into. And he’s never wanted something more.</p><p>So he leans further in, closes the short distance between their mouths, and presses his lips against Tsukishima’s. He’s never kissed anyone before, so it’s chaste and hesitant, but Tsukishima’s lips are rough and warm and pressed against his, finally, after all this time.</p><p>Tsukishima isn’t doing much in response, but he isn’t pulling away either. </p><p>Yamaguchi brings his other hand up to rest on his jaw, the touch featherlight, but Tsukishima flinches like he’s been burned. He pulls back momentarily to scan his face, to make sure he wants this as much as he does.</p><p>Tsukishima’s eyes are wide open, huge pools of gold boring into him behind black frames.</p><p>“Weirdo,” Yamaguchi murmurs, lips still close enough that they brush ever so slightly against Tsukishima’s as he speaks, “Were your eyes open the whole time?”</p><p>With their proximity, not only can he feel Tsukishima’s body trembling, but he can hear it in the waver of his voice. “Ye-ah”. He drops his forehead to rest against Yamaguchi’s, bringing their mouths impossibly closer without actually pressing them together, “I needed to see you do it.” He explains.</p><p>They stay like that for a moment, leaning against each other’s foreheads, breathing each other’s air, body temperatures rising by the second. Tsukishima uses the hand not pressed into the floor by Yamaguchi’s to brush his long hair from their faces, then to secure a hold on the back of his head. This time, Tsukishima kisses him.</p><p>It’s surprising, the way Tsukishima kisses.</p><p>The way he moves through the world is so precise. He carries himself with ease. His movements are fluid and sure.</p><p>But when he kisses Yamaguchi his fingers card through his hair clumsily, he plunges forward with nearly too much force, catches Yamaguchi’s lower lip between his and kisses him wetly, then pulls back to gasp desperately into his mouth before capturing his lips again. It’s messy, uncontrolled, and incredibly hot.</p><p>It’s also clumsy. Noses bump, teeth scrape against lips and Tsukishima’s grip on the back of his neck becomes near-painful, but it doesn’t matter. Yamaguchi wants more.</p><p>He lets go of Tsukishima’s hand he has pressed into the mattress, and a spring is released from its coil. </p><p>With both hands free, they bound towards each other. Yamaguchi’s hand flies to the other side of Tsukishima’s face, grabbing his head and angling it so their mouths slot together easily and he can slip his tongue past his lips, causing Tsukishima to groan into his open mouth. The sound travels down his entire body, vibrating through him, and he swears for a moment he sees stars.</p><p>Grabbing at each other frantically, their kisses increase in fervor and the wet sounds of their mouths moving together is obscene in Yamaguchi’s ears, but he doesn’t care.</p><p>Tsukishima’s free hand moves to grip his waist, and the other travels from the nape of his neck, down his back, then his side, leaving goosebumps in its path. Once both of his hands are secured around Yamaguchi’s waist he pulls him up onto his lap and suddenly there’s so much of Tsukishima’s body pressed against his it’s overwhelming. Yamaguchi breaks their kiss for a moment, both hands tangling in his blonde curls to ground himself.</p><p>He inventories their points of contact. Places on his body that he’s only ever imagined, an embarrassing number of times, are flush against Tsukishima’s – their torsos are pressed together, chests brought even closer as they gasp for air, his knees are straddling his hips, and <em> Christ, </em> their hard ons are slotted directly beside each other. Yamaguchi’s eyes nearly roll back into his skull.</p><p>Tsukishima takes note of this, “is this- ah- are you- hnnn – ” but Yamaguchi interrupts his garbled questioning by circling his hips experimentally and Tsukishima’s head tips forward, falling on his shoulder. He places his mouth around the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to stifle a moan, resulting in it coming out as a strangled whine.</p><p>Yamaguchi grabs the nape of Tsukishima’s neck to pull him back into an open mouthed kiss, because all he knows is the need to get closer to him, to hear the sloppy sounds of their mouths moving frenetically against each other’s, interrupted every now and then by the gasps elicited when Tsukishima bucks his hips forward or Yamaguchi grinds his down.</p><p>Their hands are everywhere on each other at all once. Sometimes Yamaguchi is grasping at the fabric covering Tsukishima’s chest like it offends him, other times they’re tangled through his messy blonde hair, or roaming up under his shirt to press against the flushed skin of his stomach, or, eventually, moving down his back, grabbing his hips and angling them against his in a way that makes them moan into each other’s mouths. </p><p>They’re both so sensitive, so excited, so unsure about what to do now that the chase is seemingly over and they’ve finally caught each other.</p><p>Tsukishima makes the next move. He grabs a hold of Yamaguchi’s head with one hand, and steadies their tangled bodies by pressing a hand into the mattress behind them, then slowly tips them over. Well, Yamaguchi could tell it was meant to be slow, but the momentum of the action causes Tsukishima to fall on top of him in a heap of entwined legs and arms and elbows in ribs. His glasses clatter off the mattress onto the floor, neither of them bother to pick them up. </p><p>“S-sorry- I-” Tsukishima begins to apologize shakily, peeling himself off Yamaguchi and hovering over him for a moment, but he looks so deliciously wrecked than Yamaguchi can’t help but interrupt him with his mouth, pulling him back down and wrapping his legs around his waist.</p><p>Yamaguchi idly thinks that the secrets of the universe must be hidden in the friction of Tsukishima’s hips grinding against his, with how impossibly good it feels. And he wants to know more. He <em> needs </em> to understand.</p><p>He begins to tug at the waistband of Tsukishima’s sweats, looking down between their bodies briefly, and he can’t help the moan that escapes his lips when his eyes land on Tsukishima’s erection tenting his pants, rubbing against his own.</p><p>“A-are you sure?” Tsukishima gasps. “<em> Yes </em>.” Yamaguchi reassures, maybe a bit hysterically.</p><p>Tsukishima doesn’t hesitate in kicking off his sweats, Yamaguchi’s are quick to follow, then their t-shirts because only being pants-less felt strangely incomplete. They aren’t exactly sure why they’re stripping off each other’s clothing, they have no plans or intentions, no thoughts really, other than the singular desire to get closer, closer, closer.</p><p>The pale skin of Tsukishima’s chest is stained a splotchy, rosy pink colour and Yamaguchi can’t help but lean forward to run his tongue along the burning skin, earning him a particularly rough grind against his hips. As he pulls his wet lips from his chest, bucking back up against Tsukishima in earnest, they catch each other’s gaze with hooded eyes and exchange a look that tells each other they’re not going to last much longer like this.</p><p>“O-oh okay, yeah.” Tsukishima says out loud in response to their silent realization. He runs a finger along Yamaguchi’s kiss-swollen lips for a moment, then drops his head, burying his face in the crook of his neck as he moves his hands to his hips, pulling them off the mattress and flush against his to rut against desperately.</p><p>It doesn’t take long for them to sink deep into the mattress together, a boneless tangle of limbs, a fevered <em> ‘fuck’ </em> into his ear, and a drawn out moan that Tsukishima has to stifle frantically with his mouth as they finish together. </p><p>For a nondescript amount of time, he’s floating; his vision is white and everything is Tsukishima. </p><p>Yamaguchi is too dumb with bliss that he can’t even bring himself to mind the mess between their bodies as he constricts his legs around Tsukishima’s waist, pulling the expanse of his torso even tighter against his to feel his stuttering pulse and twitch of his hips as they come down together, gasping and gripping onto each other.</p><p>After some time of their bodies heaving in unison, he idly realizes his nails are still digging deep into the small of his back, so he retracts his hand and starts rubbing slow circles into the skin of his waist, murmuring ‘<em>tsukki, shh, tsukki’, </em> carefully trying to bring him back to this world, but Tsukishima is honest to god panting in his ear and he feels like he could probably do all of that again, with less urgency this time.</p><p>It’s funny, Yamaguchi had always thought, if this were to happen, he’d be the trembling, nonverbal mess and that Tsukishima would have to be the one slowly coaxing him back to reality with sweet words reserved only for him, but as he pulls him back by the nape of his neck to stare into his unfocused, puffy eyes, he realizes the roles couldn’t be more reversed. He’s a hot mess. </p><p>Yamaguchi wonders if this is the consequence of Tsukishima’s near constant disinterest in, well, everything. So that when lays himself bare like this, it’s too much, it blinds him.</p><p>So instead of climbing over him and grinding all over his hot belly like he wants, he detaches his legs from the boy above him and fumbles around the floor with his free hand, searching for one of their t-shirts to shove between their bodies to make the whole cuddling part of this easier on Tsukishima; he knows he hates feeling sticky.</p><p>He also knows, as much as Tsukishima likes to tease, he’s terrified. He sees it all over his face now that they’re lying side-by-side, pressed together under the covers on top of Yamaguchi’s lumpy mattress pad, his hands cupping his freckled cheeks and wavering eyes staring at him like he can’t believe he’s real or that what they just did could exist in the reality they inhabit, as if their bated breaths and bare tangled legs aren’t reminder enough.</p><p>Yamaguchi reaches up and uses the pad of his thumb to rub away the crease that’s formed between Tsukishima’s eyebrows.  “Relax your face. You’ll get wrinkles."</p><p>He lets out a breathy laugh.</p><p>They stare in awe at each other under the covers, an unspoken conversation ensues.</p><p><em> I’ve wanted to do that for so long. </em> </p><p>
  <em> I’m so into you, it’s stupid. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I didn’t know what I was doing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sorry for elbowing you in the ribs multiple times. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m glad it was with you. </em>
</p><p>At least, that’s what Yamaguchi thinks they said.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you lindy, for being the cutest beta a bish could ask for.<br/>&lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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